He would pursue that little pastime on some other occasion. I am quite sure that I do not know you. Gerald had been confident that the boy would not dream of disobeying an order thrown at him by a major of militia, but he guessed Jack might be wondering if he was about to be haled off to prison. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged. “Lucy, do you forgive me?” She looked at him in earnest. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance.
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