It was the last thing she felt like drinking. “Suppose I chuck it,” she remarked, standing with the mauve slip in her hand —“suppose I chuck it, and surrender and go home! Perhaps, after all, Roddy was right! “Father keeps opening the door and shutting it, but a time will come— “I could still go home!” She held Ramage’s check as if to tear it across. For if Gerald had indeed gone to see this Prudence, it was better to wait for his report. What with these converging roofs that shut out all but a hand's breadth of the sky, sunshine was rare at this point. "Tell him that I—his adopted son, Thames Darrell— am detained here by Jonathan Wild.
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