She wanted to kiss his feet. ‘—without telling her why,’ he finished, ignoring the interjection. “You must send for the police at once, you know. We want to celebrate, and we want you to help us. ” She glanced shyly at the mirror above her dressing-table, and then about her at the furniture, as though it might penetrate to the thoughts that peeped in her mind. It did not cheer or fortify him with false courage and recklessness; it simply enveloped him in a mist of unreality. The Procession to Tyburn 462 XXXII.
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