She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. The dress came to her only too manifestly unwashed from its former wearer; even the under-linen they gave her seemed unclean. She held her hand to the place where he had slapped her. Satisfied he was immobilised for the moment, Melusine fell to her knees beside Jack, dragging at his suddenly heavy body to turn it on its back. But it was only six-thirty. This is a noted place for highwaymen. “You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. There was a long silence between them. ‘Would you have me face my maker with that on my conscience? If I’d died, there’d have been no one to tell you, for your father would not have done. . ’ Such simple faith touched Gerald.
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