She was trying to bring her problems to a head, and her mind insisted upon being even more discursive and atmospheric than usual. ‘Gerald Alderley, I don’t know what you deserve. I sha'n't utter a word. Finger to his lips, Gerald pointed in the direction of the noise. Crack went the whip, and away floundered the heavy vehicle through the deep ruts of the ill-kept road, or rather lane, (for it was little better,) which, then, led across Southampton Fields. He stirred continually, thrusting his legs about and flinging his arms above his head.
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