Miss Anne laughed; the fierceness in Crow's way of saying "sinful nonsense" pleased her very much.
After that they talked it all over quietly, and the upshot was that one thing especially seemed to puzzle Miss Lasarge, namely the surprising vision Adrian saw at four o'clock in the morning.
"He could hardly have been mistaken in Hughie," she said.
"Or in Pam," added Crow.
To that Miss Anne made no reply.
When Christobel had taken her leave, greatly comforted, though nothing had happened so far to lift the burden, Miss Lasarge looked at the clock; it was half-past five. She hesitated, then made up her mind--and a very firm mind too--because though Miss Anne was small and pale she had a great soul in that small body, and she realized that she must help innocent folk who were suffering through no fault of their own.
She put on a grey cloak and little close bonnet with a grey veil, and slipped across the road to Woodrising gates like a grey shadow. It was a cloudy day, and the very young new moon was "lying on her back", as country folk say, which is a sign of tiresome weather. Miss Anne, looking up, saw the silver sickle, pale and slim, for the first time.
Mrs. Trewby opened the gate, sighing; she was more bilious than usual by reason of Mrs. Chipman's company, and a large housekeeping allowance. Mrs. Chipman liked what she called "a good table", meaning, of course, the things on it, not the table. Therefore, in doing her best to keep Mrs. Chipman in countenance, Mrs. Trewby had upset herself for weeks, probably months. It was a pity, because it made her very unhappy and darkened her life.
"I wish to see the Countess, Mrs. Trewby," said Miss Anne.
"Well, miss, I dunno'----"