’ ‘But you don’t look anything like her,’ burst out Mrs Ibstock. He led her unerringly, pushing her down the narrow stairway that had been the servants’ access to the upper floors, and thence through a small door that led into the chapel. Lord bless you marm! we sees plenty on 'em in our purfession. I’m anxious, joyfully anxious, like a man when he has found a treasure. . ’ She paused, struggling for the word. He took a handful of the gravelly mud, with which the platform was covered, and threw the small pebbles, one by one, towards the gleam.
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