And I can't help you, my poor child.

And there ought not to be a moment's unnecessary delay." Lucia had to yield.

She began to pack as if all their arrangements were made, though they had no idea either when, or to what end, their wanderings would recommence, nor were able to give a hint to those about them of their intended departure.
Another restless night passed, and another day began.

There was the faintest possibility, they calculated, that Maurice, if he started as soon as he received Lucia's note, might reach them late at night.
It was but the shadow of a chance, for Hunsdon, as they knew, lay at some distance from either post-office or railway station, and the letter might not reach him till this very morning.

Yet, since he _might_ come, they must do all they could to be ready.