And mind he doesn't stir out of your sight, on any pretence whatever, till I call. Lucy crouched by the side of the grave, her head in her hands, rocking back and forth. All that confidence, born of irony, disappeared; and fear laid hold of him. "A bad girl?" She put the question as she would have put any question—leveleyed and level-toned. ” Then he went on to say: “Well, you’ve had your little adventure, and I hope now you’ve had enough of it. “What’s going on with you?” John asked inquisitively, looking down at her abdomen. But the possible attitude of her father she had still to face. Innumerable little puzzles were instantly solved.
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