Hopeless! If that was there, anything might be anywhere! Was she to spend the night searching for the needle in this bottle of hay?
Elizabeth's face began to twitch with uncomfortable merriment.

Should she go and knock up the housekeeper and instal her as chaperon, or take a stand, and insist on going to bed like a reasonable woman?
She hunted through three drawers.

The Squire meanwhile paced incessantly, sometimes muttering to himself.

Every time he came within the circle of lamplight his face was visible to Elizabeth, wrinkled and set, with angry eyes; and she saw him as a person possessed by a stubborn demon of self-will.

Once, as he passed her, she heard him say to himself, 'Of course I can write another at once--half a sheet will do.' She replaced the third drawer.