CHAPTER VIII
THE HOUR AFTER
They clapped him in the iron-store. And when Irralie had seen the last of him in their hands, she started as one wakes from a dream, and fled before the return-wave of triumphant captors. For the next half-hour she was missing and yet not missed. Then she was wanted for a purpose, and Mrs. Villiers, trying her door, found it locked.
"Irralie! Irralie! Let me in!"
Heavy steps crossed the floor; the key grated; the leaden steps retreated. Mrs. Villiers turned the handle and entered the room. The girl had thrown herself back upon the bed.
"My dear child! What next? I wondered where you were. We are going to have supper."
"Supper! After that?"
