\"Hey, don't be a stranger, Lucy. "Your uncle must protect you. By many a highwayman many a draught Of nutty-brown ale at Saint Giles's was quaft, Until the old lazar-house chanced to fall down, And the broad-bottom'd bowl was removed to the Crown. Nay, for aught I know, some of them may even now have got scent of me. But it was not so ordered. The door was then locked, and he was left alone. Lucy was sent reeling into a stone wall, which she hit with a great thud. He was staring at her, openly gaping. But here was new music, tender and kindly and whimsical, that first roved to and fro in the mind and then cuddled up in the heart. CHAPTER XXV Spurlock pushed back his helmet and sat down in the white sand, buckling his knees and folding his arms around them—pondering.
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