Having ascertained that Thames was at his heels, he hurried with his ghastly burthen down Seacoal Lane. She had found him! Excitement welled. He got up. She kept trying to shut her legs, to stop the baby from coming out. I hadn’t heard of him before the trial. She had, it was true, accepted doubtfully the pen he had offered. “It is not, of course, a pleasant subject of conversation for you or for me, yet I think I may venture to suggest to you that your sister’s—er—indiscretions—have reached a point which makes a separation between you almost a necessity. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. She took up a book and threw it down again.
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