Sheppard, in a voice of agony. Turning off again on the left, down Seacoal Lane, they arrived at the mouth of a dark, narrow alley, into which they plunged; and, at the farther extremity found a small yard, overlooked by the blank walls of a large gloomy habitation. He, for his part, was trying to grasp the series of unexpected reactions that had so wrecked their tete-a-tete. ‘What are you going to do now, Gerald?’ He sipped his wine and shrugged. There’s hardly a night she doesn’t sneak out of the house. He had assumed that her leaving home was the point at issue, that everything turned on that, and that the sole alternative was obedience, and she had fallen in with that assumption until rebellion seemed a sacred principle.
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