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Think, Maud.
I turn to face the door, put my mouth to a gap in the wood.
''Dainty,'' I say quietly.
''What is it?''
''Dainty, I am not well. You must fetch me something.''
''What?'' She tries the door. ''Come out, miss.''
I can''t. I daren''t. Dainty, you must go to the drawer, in the chest
in my room upstairs. Will you? There is something there. Will
you? Oh, I wish you would hurry! Oh, how it rushes! I am afraid of
the men coming back—''
''Oh, '' she says, understanding me at last. She drops her voice. ''Caught you out has it?''
''Will you go for me, Dainty?'' ''But I''m not to leave you, miss!''
''I must keep here, then, until Mrs Sucksby comes! But say that John, or Mr Ibbs, should come first! Or say I swoon? And the door
is bolted! What will Mrs Sucksby think of us, then?'' ''Oh Lord,'' she mutters. And then: ''In the chest of drawers, you
say?''
''The top-most drawer, on the right. Will you hurry? If I might
ust make myself neat, and then lie down. I always take it so
badly—''
All right.''
''Be quick!''＊思＊兔＊網＊文＊檔＊共＊享＊與＊在＊線＊閱＊讀＊
All right!''
Her voice is fading. I press my ear to the wood, hear her feet, the opening and swinging back of the kitchen door.—I slide the bolt and run. I run out of the passage and into the court—I remember this, I remember the nettles, the bricks. Which way from here? There are high walls all about me. But I run further, and the walls give way. There''s a dusty path—it was slick with mud, when I came down it before; but I see it, and know it—I know it!—it leads to an alley and this, in turn, leads to another path, which crosses a street and leads me—where? To a road I do not recognise, that runs under the arches of a bridge. I recall the bridge, but remember it nearer, lower. I recall a high, dead wall. There is no wall here.