That she possessed any sense of humour was in itself one of those
human miracles which metaphysicians are always pothering over without
arriving anywhere; for her previous environment had been particularly
humourless. A sound sleeper, she was not roused by
the creaky openings and closings of drawers as Lucy
packed a single duffle bag with underwear and soap that
was pilfered from a multipack of Zest in the Beck’s
downstairs bathroom. “I mean to go to prison directly the session is over,” said Miss Klegg. Fine but strong lines
marked the profile: that would speak for courage and resolution. It is for that reason that
this novel begins with her there, and neither earlier nor later, for it is the history
of this crisis and its consequences that this novel has to tell. Good looks, with a melancholy cast,
always drew sentimental females. She saw her mother, her pale face, a woman in a white
robe, calling to her from a sun drenched balcony. There's another lad at the gate waiting for him—the same who
was here just now, that Sir Rowland was speaking of, who fastened up the jewelcase for her ladyship. He displayed a quite unprofessional vein of mysticism in the matter. ‘If you had met her, you’d understand. "
"Well, it's mighty fine of you to break your journey in this fashion—for someone
you don't know, a passer-by. She had been
obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who
had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his
mistress—guarding the door outside. Fast and Loose
415
XXIII.
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