CHAPTER II. She was sorry for his liking her too much for his own good, but her need was too desperate to cavil at turning it to useful account. ‘Hilary is a darling. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. He flew to the window, and would have passed his sword through the thief-taker's body, if the latter had not quickly interposed the person of Mrs. Sheppard. She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed.
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