Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. Every window in the public house was filled with guests; and, as in the case of St. Lucy looked at the stains on the threadbare carpeting to distract herself, embarrassed to her core. " "You are an angel, I say," continued the poor maniac; "and my Jack would have been like you, if he had lived. " "I am calm—quite calm, Rowland," she answered, with lips whose agitation belied her words. " "Others may, if you won't," muttered Jack, retiring.
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