Then she went below. No doubt that was due to his helplessness. In his condition the boy apparently had been as safe as in the lock-up. Darkness closed in on them as the officers stepped inside the musty interior. Drummond had made an abominable mistake. He was a Wiltshire Edmondshaw, a very old family. Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers. “Oh, God!” she said at last, “how I wish I had been taught to pray!” Part 3 She had some idea of putting these subtle and difficult issues to the chaplain when she was warned of his advent.
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