‘But if there is one, how in the world did this mystery lady of yours know of it?’ ‘That, Lucy, is precisely the point that has been exercising my mind,’ Gerald said, turning his eyes once more to the group of French exiles in the alcove. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. She sat in a chair in the parlour and regarded the darkening sky through the small casement window. Too many. She was recalling the circumstances under which she had engaged herself to Manning, and trying to understand a curious development of the quality of this relationship.
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