For something her age, I must admit she does seem to posess a sparkle that one would usually only be able to attribute to such things as performing yoga-type exercises in hot and sulphurous mud baths while chanting in some mysterious and untransalatable tongue.
Which, of course, she does do, but to no effect.
Perhaps it is the application of essential oiliness to herself, bathed in occult candlelight, while a manservant whose tongue has been cut out (so he is unable to talk of the intolerably-cruel vision he must cruelly tolerate) stands mournfully-by twanging on his zither PURELY FOR HER ENTERTAINMENT?
It has also been put to me on several occasions, but now is not the time or the place for such a diversion.
Or - as some have said but I am sworn not to repeat - a life of licentious mingling with the ne'er-do-well scum that are forbidden entry to Club Derrig for fear they will pollute that fine establishment's atmosphere with proper conversation and the manners of gentlefolk?
But all that speculation (although it will continue unabated) can end now.
Her secret is out.
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