Mother and Son XI. A hansom stopped a little way off. ‘I want a word with you, my lad. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. Not the most stringent search, conducted all morning, turned up one solitary sheet. Having ascertained that a vessel sails for France from the river at daybreak to-morrow morning, I have secured a passage in her, and have already had the few effects I possess, conveyed on board. I barely prevailed sometimes, but in the end, my wits were faster than their steel. Girls erupted in waves of whispering as soon as she passed them by. She made a few protests, a few excuses for her action in accepting him, a few lame explanations, but he did not heed them or care for them.
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