Manning came into her thoughts again, an unexpected, tall, dark, self-contained presence at the Fadden. ‘Odd sort of a nun. The white veil had fallen to the ground and Gerald retrieved it for her. Manned by a couple of watermen, who rowed with great swiftness, this wherry dashed through the current in the track of the fugitive, of whom it was evidently in pursuit, and upon whom it perceptibly gained. "Very well," said Rachel, with a toss of her pretty head, "very well. Keeping hold of the doorhandle, she turned slowly. They are long gone.
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