144 I think he heard about the backpack and the spitballs finally. ‘You don’t mean to say she’s here?’ ‘Was,’ Gerald corrected. On this fresh outburst of the storm, Wood threw himself instinctively into the bottom of the boat, and clasping the little orphan to his breast, endeavoured to prepare himself to meet his fate. He must be a sly fox to get out of the Mint without my knowledge. She would look up, shake her head, and then go back to her reading or crewelwork. “Well, what is it?” “Montague Hill is recovering consciousness,” he said.
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