she could n't remember the rest of the rhymes ( which was probably a mercy ; she had a strong suspicion that nora had whomped them up herself , probably with an eye toward publication in one of the soft and yearning self-help magazines which sat on the coffee-table in her waiting room ) `` and so went on without them : `` six is my breasts , seven 's my shoulders , eight 's , my neck ... '' she paused to take a breath and was relieved to find her heartbeat had slowed from a gallop to a fast run .