Part 5 The next morning she waited in the laboratory at the lunch-hour in the reasonable certainty that he would come to her. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. "Where are you going?" she asked. She resumed her on guard position, and glaring steadily at him, waited again. The Well Hole. Enchanted. “Now,” he said, quietly, “it’s time we stopped this nonsense. Yet there was nothing for her to do. I have done n-nothing.
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