It was precisely two o'clock on the morning of Whit-monday, the 25th of May 1724, when the remarkable escape before detailed was completed: and, though it wanted full two hours to daybreak, the glimmer of a waning moon prevented it from being totally dark. He subjected me there to great annoyance by claiming me as his wife. The psychic vibration of him thickened the air of the room as if he were already inside. She remained stonily in the middle of the hallway until the spinsters' door shut them from view … for ever. Carefully sustaining the child which, even in that terrible extremity, he had not the heart to abandon, he fell upon his knees, and, guiding himself with his right hand, crept slowly on. I'll be at the Cross Shovels in the course of the day. A sob was strangled in her throat.
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