Mrs. Darcy acquiesces, faintly conscious that the unescapable worst of her story is still ahead.
“And then?”
“Then they both set off running back as hard as they could to try and reach it in time.”
“Yes, yes?” rather breathlessly.
“Lavinia stumbled and fell.”
“How very unlike her!”
“But Rupert ran on.”
“Yes?”
It is hard to be pulled up so near the dénouement, as Mrs. Prince feels, but yet it is evident to even her not very acute perceptions that, for the moment, whip and spur are useless. Yet, after what is in reality a very short interval, the tale is taken firmly up again.
“He got up just in time, snatched the child, and threw it safely on to the grass.