. . . Wearied at length with thinking on the past, and terrified by the prospect of the future, he threw himself on the straw with which the cage was littered, and endeavoured to compose himself to slumber. We did not know where to send … in case you died. His horse, which had apparently gone to sleep, preferred to remain where he was. After all, Hilary must be near returned by now. With some difficulty he contrived to raise her to the window, and with still greater difficulty to squeeze her through it—her bulk being much greater than his own. ” “You shall not need either,” Brendon said grimly.
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