"Who is it?" "He didn't give his name, Sir," replied the maid; "but he's a young gentleman. Hill closed his eyes. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. If you knew your aunt were alive, if she expected you, that would be different. In olden days it boasted a chapel, dedicated to Saint Thomas; beneath which there was a crypt curiously constructed amid the arches, where "was sepultured Peter the Chaplain of Colechurch, who began the Stone Bridge at London:" and it still boasted an edifice (though now in rather a tumbledown condition) which had once vied with a palace,—we mean Nonesuch House. The thin stream of blood on which her eyes were fastened with a nameless horror reached almost to her feet. Lucy went downstairs to prepare the hot cocoa that would be the last hot drink of the season, ruefully spiking the liquid with Nytol, just one tablet dissolved in a little warm water.
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