"No bones broken, I hope," said Thames, laughing at Jack, who limped towards the bench, rubbing his shins as he went. He dragged it out, and perceiving, in spite of the decayed frame, that it was the body of Sir Rowland Trenchard, commanded his attendants to convey it up stairs—an order which was promptly obeyed. She did not try to approach him. A buxom piece, who looked, Gerald decided, as if she would be more at home in an amorous engagement in a hayloft than sitting demurely in a ballroom. The afternoon was her own; but from eight until midnight she sat beside the patient.
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