God, we suck. At the eastern gate of the churchyard stood the carriage with the steps lowered. It was the very spot from which his poor mother had gazed after her vain attempt to rescue him at the Mint; but, though he was ignorant of this, her image was alone present to him. “Annabel,” she said, “you are my sister, or I would bid you take the flowers if you care for them, and leave the room. Besides, it was not the lodgekeeper’s business to know that “other matters” included a reluctance on Gerald’s part to allow his little company to conduct the search without him, and he’d had an engagement this morning.
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