Before he could return, Jack had made good his retreat; and, wandering about the lanes and hedges, kept out of sight as much as possible. “He is Annabel’s husband,” she reminded him. He got out in much the same way from the Gatehouse,—stole the keys, and passed through a room where I was sitting half-asleep in a chair. ‘You are Mrs Ibstock, I think,’ she said eagerly. When he awoke it was late in the day, and raining heavily. There’d only be endless rows if I was at home. "I merely asked the question," he said, after he had enjoyed the boy's suspense for a moment.
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