‘Now then, my lad, you’re under arrest you are. The miserable woman staggered, uttered a deep groan, and fell senseless on the straw. He saw her young and graceful back as she descended from the carriage, severely ignoring him, and recalled a glimpse he had of her face, bright and serene, as his train ran out of Wimbledon. “He seems like such a nice boy. The woollen-draper looked at his watch. ‘Beg pardon, miss, but I’m told as how—’ She broke off, her eyes widening, her jaw dropping open.
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