“Are you speaking to me?” she asked calmly. Wood lifted up his hands in mute despair. “Come in. ” “Please get off at the next exit. Towards this spot Mrs. He's more like a lord than—" As she spoke, steps were heard approaching; the door was thrown open, and a young man marched boldly into the room. Until that moment, Jarvis had imagined the child to be safe in the wet-nurse’s cottage. “Good evening, Dorling,” he said. He had not addressed to her even the most ordinary courtesy of fellow travellers; she doubted that he was even aware of her existence. .
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