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Updated: May 16, 2025
And while the 'patrin-chase' went on, and the morning grew brighter and brighter, the Gypsy's lithe, catlike tread never faltered. The rise and fall of her bosom were as regular and as calm as in the public-house. Such agility and such staying power in a woman astonished me. Finding no trace of Winnie, we returned to the little plateau by Knockers' Llyn.
'No use, brother, said Sinfi. 'If I han't pretty well worked Carnarvon, it's a pity. I've bin there the last three weeks on the patrin-chase, and not a patrin could I find. It's my belief as she never went into Carnarvon town at all, but turned off and went into Llanbeblig churchyard. 'Why do you think so, Sinfi?
No, reia, Winnie Wynne ain't in Wales at all, else I'd never give up this patrin-chase. So fare ye well; and she held out her hand, which I grasped, reluctant to let it go. 'Fare ye well, reia, she repeated, as she walked swiftly away; 'I wonder whether we shall ever meet agin. 'Indeed, I hope so, I said.
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