Groping their way through one or two dark and mouldy-smelling vaults, the party ascended a flight of steps, which brought them to the hall. Annabel passed on with a strained nod to her sister, and Sir John’s bow was a miracle of icy displeasure. She ducked behind a pile of unused drywall. ‘But only think, Hilary,’ Lucy protested, evidently too involved in her theory to waste time in scolding. Had she too been flying from something and had accepted this method of escape? But what frying-pan could be equal to this fire? All this led him back to the original circle. " Thames turned away at the question, which he felt might be construed into a reproach. CHAPTER I. It'll be your own fault if you don't soon get another and a proper young man into the bargain.
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