Vaguely she heard the distinctive sound of male voices as she saw Gosse dive towards the fateful pew. Left alone, Jonathan lighted a lamp, and, opening the trap-door, descended the secret stairs. Vexation at his folly in suffering himself to be thus entrapped kept Wood for a short time silent. The lad hesitated. She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. "I am coming to the point, Joan. You are my Sir Galahad, so faithful and true that it is a wonder you exist. It needs cultivating, I think.
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