“I find it very hard to write this letter. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. . ’ ‘I have English a little,’ the girl offered, her voice shaking as she essayed a smile and sank into a curtsy. "It is droll," he said. “It is Rhea’s infant. “Only—I have come face to face—with something terrible, and wholly unexpected trouble.
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