A yellow scarf hung loosely around her neck. Her shapeless dress was a flaming red.
For all the straigtness of her back she walked with a slouch. 'Come here', said Lord Groan as she was about to pass him and the doctor.
'Yes father', she said huskily.
'Where have you been for the last fortnight, Fuchsia?'
'Oh, here and there, father' she said, staring at her shoes. She tossed her long hair and it flapped down her back like a pirate's flag. She stood in about as awkward a manner as could be concieved. Utterly un-feminine – no man couldd have invented it.
"Here and there?" echoed her father in a weary voice. "What does 'here and there' mean? You've been hiding. Where, girl?"
"'N the libr'y and 'n the armoury, 'n walking about a lot", said Lady Fuchsia, and her sullen eyes narrowed. "I just heard silly rumours about mother. They said I've got a brother -- idiots! idiots! I hate them. I havn't, have I? Have I?"
"A little brother", broke in Doctor Prunesquallor. "Yes, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, a minute, infinitesimal, microscopic addition to the famous line is now behind this bedroom door. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, he, he, he, he! Oh yes! Ha ha! Oh yes indeed! Very much so."
"No!" said Fuchsia so loudly that the doctor coughed crisply and his lordship took a step forward with his eyes drawn together and a sad curl at the corner of his mouth.
"It's not true!" shouted Fuchsia, turning from them and twirling a great lock of black hair round and round her wrist. "I don't believe it! Let me go! Let me go!"
As no one was touching her, her cry was unnecessary and she turned and ran with strange bounds along the corridor that led from the landing. Before she was lost to view, Steerpike could hear her voice shouting from the distance, "Oh how I hate people!".