For a few minutes, Darrell seemed to have the advantage in the conflict. Wearied at length with thinking on the past, and terrified by the prospect of the future, he threw himself on the straw with which the cage was littered, and endeavoured to compose himself to slumber. But all this business has driven it clean out of my head. ‘Here you, Pottiswick. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. This salute of his—actually the first she could remember—while it did not disturb her, began to lead her thoughts into new channels of speculation.
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