But Manning seemed more and more clearly indicated as a refuge, as security. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. "Well, what sort of journey have you had, Quilt?" asked the man as he hastened to assist Sir Rowland to dismount. He seemed wholly insensible to the rain, though it presently descended in torrents, and continued his search as ardently as before. "I have good news for you.
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