While he was straining every sinew, his foot slipped, and he fell, head foremost, into a deep trench, which he had not observed in the dark. ‘Sir?’ enquired the lad. ‘At last,’ he cried, ‘I have found you!’ He would listen to nothing. And I passed myself off as Meysey Hill, and since—then—I haven’t had a minute’s peace. ” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch. Oh, and weeks and months of thought and feeling there are bottled up too. "You poor child!" said Prudence.
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