Martha had been careful to make no mention of Melusine, and did not reply to Mrs Ibstock’s enquiry about the fate of the little babe. And you’d better have her fetch in some food for the missie, an’ all. Beyond was a narrow bridge, crossing a circular building, at the bottom of which lay a deep well. Lucy? Come 177 on out. She dared not say the word aloud, not even to herself. At last some anodyne formed itself from these exercises, and, with eyelashes wet with such feeble tears as only three-o’clock-in-the-morning pathos can distil, she fell asleep. In the hall below she could hear his firm voice giving quick commands to the servants.
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