’There, there, girl." The vicar pawed Belinda's bare anns and back and reluctantly allowed her to draw a sheet up over her magnificent young breasts. "You're safe from him now!" Sir Hugo got the toe of his shoe in, spinning Alan about on the bare boards like a top before he fetched up against a table which came down with a crash, but allowed him space to rise. Belinda went into another paroxysm of wailing as the vicar slobbered over her. ’Vicar, I swear before God this was not totally my doing," Alan shouted, dodging about the room from Morton and his father. Gerald and Pilchard huddled in the doorway, unwilling to get too involved, but ready to form a blocking force. "I don't know you well, and I doubt if you know this family well, either, but if you did.. ‘. ’Take him, Morton," his father said. "Take him now!" The one safe road was not another lap of the room. Alan vaulted a table and dove back into the bed, rolling to his feet by the vicar. ’If you would only listen to me, sir…" he begged. Belinda's feet flew into action, pummeling him around the groin and up against the quavering old churchman. "You… you… Absalom!" the vicar finally managed to say, just before hitting him inexpertly in the chin with a lean and birdlike fist. It was enough, however, to put stars in his vision and brought with it the odd urge to sneeze. As the others rounded the bed to lay hands on him, he sank to the floor once more, feeling the thump of the vicar's foot slamming his ribs. ’Here, that's not quite… cricket," he protested.

As he was jerked to his feet and hustled out of the room, he got a chance to lay eyes on Belinda once more, and she was staring at him with a curious smile on her lips and a crinkle to her eyes, the sort of smile he had seen her deliver to a particularly tasty stuffed goose at remove, after she had had her fill and was quite satisfied.