So she brought upon the stage the Reverend Henry Dolby, a preacher of means, worldly-wise and kindly, cheery and rotund, who, with his wife and daughter, had arrived at the Victoria that morning. She propped a pillow against his padded headboard and sat herself into a stiff upright position, legs expertly crossed. It was a dark mysterious place, and what it was used for no one exactly knew; but it was called by those who had seen it the Well Hole. “Good,” he said, as he watched the colour come back to her cheeks. He had been for months without music of the character he loved—and he dared not play any of it! McClintock, after the music began, left the piano and sat in a corner just beyond the circle of light cast by the lamp.
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