‘Don’t tell me. “Poor Lucy!” Cathy exclaimed as she rushed in the door, umbrella sheathed. Papillon would have broken him down; anything tender would have sapped his will; and like as not he would have left the stool and rushed into the night. Aware that not a moment was to be lost, if he meant to render any effectual assistance to the child, he ceased shouting, and defending himself in the best way he could from the attacks of Rowland, by whom he was closely pressed, forced his way, in spite of all opposition, to Davies, and dealt him a blow on the head with such good will that, had it not been for the intervention of the wall, the ruffian must have been prostrated.
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