She wanted to stay where she was; but tears were dangerous; the more she wept, the weaker she would become defensively. Mr. Lucy propped Michelle against a thick, knobby tree stump. McClintock, without comment, accepted the hand. Through this confusion the carpenter struggled on;—now ascending, now descending the different mountains of rubbish that beset his path, at the imminent peril of his life and limbs, until he arrived in Fleet Street. It was as if she had grown right past her father into something older and of infinitely wider outlook, as if he had always been unsuspectedly a flattened figure, and now she had discovered him from the other side.
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