"You needn't go far to do that," returned Quilt; "there he stands. I'm burning to get to work. S. ’ ‘Where are we going?’ ‘Back to Blaye, my girl. “Hey sis!” He cried drunkenly. ’ ‘Is she now? And what would you be wanting of her, may I ask?’ ‘Because she knows something that may make this fool understand that I am the mistress of—’ She broke off. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life.
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