She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. " So saying, he closed the lantern. “Thought so. Though Gerald must suppose it was inevitable she should eventually come here. "Sir Cecil is no more. ‘Poor Hilary. Supposing the wire should break and her head tumble off her shoulders into the street? The whimsey caused another smile to ripple across her lips. For some time he could not stir, but felt sick and exhausted. Drink this!” He poured out a glass of wine with a firm hand, and held it to her lips. In this state of knowledge you will be horribly, irrevocably, alone.
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