Sir John stood upon the threshold. “But you yourself,” she exclaimed, glancing into his face, “you too look tired. Too intent on her search, and convinced besides that she was quite alone, she had been an easy prey. He had never liked to be hugged, but she wondered if his corporeal needs would be made apparent by human touch. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. Immediately beneath her lay Willesden,—the most charming and secluded village in the neighbourhood of the metropolis—with its scattered farm-houses, its noble granges, and its old grey church-tower just peeping above a grove of rook-haunted trees. ’ Chapter Six Creeping along the dark narrow passage, with lantern held well ahead to keep her step steady on the uneven stones—and to warn her of the advent of rats— Melusine kept her long petticoats fastidiously clear of the dirt with an efficient hand, a habit she had learned in the convent. ” “Do you think it is really worth while?” Lady Lescelles asked gently. I care for you.
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