” She drove off in a little fiacre, nodding and smiling at Sir John, who remained upon the Avenue. ‘What in Hades d’ye mean, thanks to me? Want to blame anyone, blame that rapscallion who calls himself your father. ” She brought her knees up to her chest, and rocked back and forth like a small child. “Perhaps for me,” she added, with a sudden wistful look out of the bare high window, “a night of beginnings. Sheppard. ” She side-stepped into his living room from behind a square white column. For her mother to betray her seemed inevitable, but the betrayal seemed worse than her fate.
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