And tell Pottiswick to mend that lock we broke. I bound him up good and tight, stuffed his mouth with a length of rope, taped it shut. "The worst house in the neighbourhood—the constant haunt of reprobates and thieves," groaned Wood. "I was about to add," continued Gay, "that my opera shall have no music except the good old ballad tunes. ’ ‘Was it?’ Her lips twitched. ‘Oh, ah. Unless—’ Something clicked in his mind and he stared at his friend without seeing him. “Yet it is my last evening, and I think —if you are sure that you would like to have me—that I will risk it. These joyful bounds just lace into the stuff of my memories and stay there forever. She’d prefer that I read classic literature, of course, but she only reads paperback romance novels, so she can’t exactly complain.
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