“I can say no more. A stout wooden shutter, opening inwardly, being removed, disclosed a grating of iron bars. Her hand came up and she laced her fingers with his. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. ” “And now—I am to lose you. ‘Hang it all, Mrs Sindlesham is right! You are two of a kind. I'd do anything for Thames Darrell. ’ ‘It’s immaterial, in any event,’ Roding put in. He went on. Observe it—a blue-serge coat.
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