The party, then, sat down to a bowl of punch; and, at its conclusion, Captain Kneebone regretted that an engagement to spend the evening with Mrs. "Thames!—Thames!" cried Winifred, rushing to the window. Perhaps I may borrow yours one day?’ ‘Lucilla, you wretch,’ burst from the captain. Michelle helped her mother clear the table and Lucy thanked her for the meal. But he was at last persuaded that I mean you no harm, and that I might—just possibly, since I am both a gentleman and a major of militia—be able to be of more assistance to you than he himself. There was barely room for one, let alone two, in the passage, and Melusine ended up backwards, supporting Jack as best she could as he stumbled along, grasping the rough walls on either side with both hands. Running his hand carefully over it in search of the lock, he perceived to his dismay that it was fastened on the other side. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. .
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