Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. "Well, since you force me to betray my master's secrets," replied Quilt, sullenly, "I've ridden express to Manchester to deliver a message to Sir Rowland. I kept them on myself till the sight of your empty chair and the chill loneliness of it all nearly sent me mad. ’ ‘Bravo,’ applauded Lucilla, clapping her hands. Lucy had baked the apple and pumpkin pies, carefully molding the flour crusts and adding extra teaspoonfuls of allspice and cinnamon while no one looked.
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