Each morning his inquiry was properly answered: the patient was steadily improving, but none could say when he would be strong enough to proceed upon his journey. “I fail to see the joke,” Sir John said. Feigning an air of casualness, Lucy asked the obvious. Buck up. Here, where every element of her surroundings was tawdry and commonplace, and before this young man of vulgar origin and appearance, it was striking. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. Lucy looked at her reflection with a measure of awe. "In favour of my son. It was just a chance that we in particular hit against each other—nothing predestined about it.
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