“But what are you going to do?” asked Hetty. A little within stood a second door, or rather wicket, lower than the first, but of equal strength, and surmounted by a row of sharp spikes. Then she looked up the sweep of pine-trees to the towering sunlit cliffs and the high heaven above and then back to his face. ‘What do you mean to do with her?’ ‘Just keep her talking, that’s all,’ Gerald said quickly. There was a maiden aunt who lived in the North who might let her live there for a few weeks until she disappeared. Another glass, Jack. ‘I’m only a poor country wench, child.
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