"And now, farewell, Mr. Every time he left a room, she chastised herself bitterly for her own profound weakness. Take my word for it, your troubles are over. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. She had not been sufficiently prompted in relation to the ways of caravansaries; but her mind had been alert and receptive. I deemed it more prudent to send him to the Dark House than to bring him here, in case of any search after him by his adoptive father—the carpenter Wood. .
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