Accordingly, when she arrived at the Shovels, with which, as an old haunt in her bygone days of wretchedness she was well acquainted, instead of entering the principal apartment, which she saw at a glance was crowded with company of both sexes, she turned into a small room on the left of the bar, and, as an excuse for so doing, called for something to drink. There was every indication that she fled the island in company with a dissolute rogue. They talked lightly but confidentially until Sir John approached them with a slight frown upon his face. But she wished she could put the thing she had done in some way to them so that it would not hurt them so much as the truth would certainly do. Living, he knew that he would never send that letter. He will have it that I’ve taken leave of my senses.
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