She heard their feet and muffled voices. Her new husband had paid for a cadre of escorts back to Mantua. "Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. If ever I did meet a man I could love, I should love him”—her voice dropped again—“platonically. But not a word to him of Lady Trafford's absence—mind that. "That's it!"—eagerly. She was delivered home by 11:30pm. ’ Footsteps sounded just outside, and Captain Roding walked in.
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