“It’s THE Society!” said Miss Miniver. Wood grasped his companion's arm to attract his attention to this unexpected means of escape. “You really couldn’t ride in it,” he said, deprecatingly. He wore a battered sunhelmet, a loin-cloth and a pair of dilapidated canvas shoes. Wood, meanwhile, had summoned his men-servants, and having armed them with such weapons as could be found, they proceeded to the garden, where the first object they encountered was Thames Darrell, extended on the ground, and weltering in his blood. She tried to keep her side up by declaring that he had put her into an impossible position, and he replied by shouting, “Nonsense! Nonsense! Any father in my place would have done what I did.
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