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And they had glimpses through lattice windows of marvelous and fantastic merchandise. Marvelous and fantastic it seemed to Winny at first sight. But when she saw that it was just what they were selling in the shops to-day the delicious confusion in her mind heightened the effect of fantasy and of enchantment. "I didn't think it would be like this," she said.
He went home through Wandsworth that evening and called at St. Ann's Terrace. Winny was there. She came down to him where he waited on the doorstep. As they stood there he could see over the low palings of the gardens the window of the little house where he had climbed in that night, that Sunday night, more than two years ago. He said he had come to ask her to spend Bank Holiday with them.
But it was only when, in the act of undressing, he was reminded of Violet's letter by its bulging in his breast pocket, that he glimpsed the danger they had escaped. Now, that inner sanity, that secret wisdom which had made him preserve Violet's letter as a possibly valuable document, suggested that if Winny had stayed all night in the house with him that document would have lost its value.
If Winny did not positively seek capture, she no longer positively evaded it. She was no longer afraid of him, recognizing, no doubt, that he wanted nothing of her, that he would never worry her again. It was as if she had given him his lesson, and was content now that he had learned it.
"Captain Darren," he added, sternly, "you shall hear from me." "When you please, Sir," said Thames, coldly. And the woollen-draper departed. "What is all this, dear Winny?" inquired Thames, as soon as they were alone. "Nothing nothing," she answered, bursting into tears. "Don't ask me about it now."
Immediately a reinforcement offered itself to the party in the shape of Zoë and Winny. A pretty little group of four eager listeners and one inspired narrator soon disposed themselves in the unstudied grace of childhood, and the soft voice was heard in regular cadence, now lively, now solemn, now pathetic, and again elevated according to the interest and pathos of her story.
He put his arm round her and kissed her. "You're all right now, aren't you?" "Yes, Ran, dear, I'm all right." She smiled. "Run away and don't keep Winny waiting." And Ranny looked back, laughing, through the doorway. "You know, Mother, it reelly is all right. And you're an angel." And she said, "There! Go along with you." He went. "Ranny, how nice you look!"
"I could almost find in my heart to quarrel with Jack Sheppard for occasioning you so much pain," observed little Winifred Wood, as, having completed her ministration to the best of her ability, she helped Thames on with his coat. "I don't think you could find in your heart to quarrel with any one, Winny; much less with a person whom I like so much as Jack Sheppard. My arm's nearly well again.
Ransome said to himself bitterly that his marriage had not been his only folly. He should have had the sense to do as Booty had done. Fred had married soon after Michaelmas, when he too had got his rise. He and Maudie had not looked upon houses to their destruction; they had simply taken another room in St. Ann's Terrace where she had lived with Winny.
So far was he from referring it to Miss Usher that when it died down he made no attempt to revive it by following the adventure. He was restrained by some obscure instinct of self-preservation, also by the absurd persistence with which in thought he returned again and again to Winny Dymond.
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