But she did not speak. Stanley poured wine. Lucy and Mike watched the exchange of high school Spanish with feigned interest. As he entered the shop, a tall portly personage advanced to meet him, whom he at once recognised as the present proprietor. ‘You said?’ ‘Mrs Sindlesham, your great-aunt, miss. Sheppard; and, as soon as he could command his feelings, which were considerably excited by the mention of her distresses, he squeezed her hand warmly, bestowed a hearty execration upon his own inhumanity, and swore he would neither separate her from her child, nor suffer any one else to separate them. “That’s it,” she said. You seemed, he thought, to have some grievance which you would not explain and which he thought must arise from a misunderstanding. She took up one of her father’s novels and put it down again, fretted up to her own room for some work, sat on her bed and meditated upon the room that she was now really abandoning forever, and returned at length with a stocking to darn.
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