“Not a whisper from the outside world. Uriah Heep seems his usual repulsive self. Heathcliff and the Darcys are squabbling over cravats or something again, which might need your intervention. Best not make any of them keep watch together; Austens and Brontës are fundamentally opposed.” He yawned, stretched, and rose to his feet. “You’re right; this is far too early for me to be awake. Would you like a drink?”
