“I suppose he’s frightfully clever,” said Miss Klegg. ’ ‘Yes, a pretty theory, Lucy,’ Gerald said evenly, ‘but for one thing. The room in which this interview took place had a sordid and miserable look. I think not, Annabel. In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you. " "Poor child!" muttered Trenchard, abstractedly; "the whole scene upon the river is passing before me. "Bring him back with you. ” Lucy snickered.
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