But there was something else; and in his befogged mental state the comparison eluded him. Michelle was in sight, Lucy could hear her voice, high in the crowd, and saw her blond head bobbing among a sea of faces. 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. “Dear me! I wonder where Sir John picked her up. You know very well that you took from my easel David Courtlaw’s study of me, and sent it to Cariolus. Yet I think that he will do it. But come in, dear.
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