The more her thoughts dwelt upon the subject, the more convinced she was that she could not go to any one for help; she would have to solve the riddle by her own efforts, by some future experience. Perhaps she would have to charge this man and appear in a police-court next day. Her pa was only the smithy. Not alone with her, that’s sure. Manning loomed up ever and again into her world, full of a futile solicitude, and almost always declaring she was splendid, splendid, and wishing he could talk things out with her. 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. Herculis was a port city on the Tyrrhenian Sea not far from where the manor had been. But, when the sound of the carriage-wheels died away, and he felt that she was actually gone, his resolution failed him, and he rang the bell violently. One gets drawn into things. Nothing at all. “Poor Lucy!” Cathy exclaimed as she rushed in the door, umbrella sheathed.
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