"But we must be getting along if we are to lunch in the tower of the water-clock. At last she glanced at a little clock in the corner of the room, and sprang to her feet. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. He well knows that but two lives—those of Thames Darrell and Sir Rowland Trenchard,—stand between you and the vast possessions of the family. For a long time neither spoke again. The actual danger was lost sight of in these wild apprehensions; and many timorous beings were scared beyond reason's verge by the excess of their fears. Into this hole in the wall and out of it the native stream flowed from sunrise to sunset, when the stream mysteriously ceased. She aimed directly at Rhea’s head. "Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. Brown broke the silence.
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