Close behind him stood the tall gaunt figure of Marvel, with his large bony hands, his scraggy neck, and ill-favoured countenance. Half a day had turned the corner of the hours; and Ah Cum admitted that this girl puzzled him. “There was a man called Montague Hill,” she said hoarsely, “but he is dead. Oh, what’s his name? It’s on the tip of my tongue. She dreaded living off the land again, like an animal, as she had done for dozens of years at a stretch. Prison was beastly. He had not proceeded far when he was alarmed by the tramp of a horse, which seemed to be rapidly approaching, and he had scarcely time to leap the hedge and conceal himself behind a tree, when a tall man, enveloped in an ample cloak, with his hat pulled over his brows, rode by at full speed. Fancy, as they say hereabouts!" What had aroused this open-air monologue was a small tin sign in a window. “It is very, very difficult,” she continued, looking steadfastly at the ground.
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