Diane spooned warm apple-rhubarb pie onto the girl’s plates, topping each with scoops of ice cream. “You will pardon me, sir,” he said in a subdued tone, “but I think that you have forgotten to look at your engagement book. She lived, he noted, very carelessly. She was greatly heartened by doing this. Poor young lady! She trembled too, and was unable to give her evidence. It is only a matter of time before he presents himself to whoever has the deeds to Remenham House—a lawyer I presume—and claims that property for his wife’s. My nerves are shaken. I hated him. ‘There was a priest, the father confessor, you understand.
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