‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Martha begged. The entire place was a masterpiece of wooden carving, a design of interleaving carried throughout. A momentary petrifaction, and terror had lent wings to her feet. ‘You wish a reason for jealousy? Eh bien, you may have it. Nor, he would wager, had the heroic Monsieur Valade, who had rescued her from that life and brought her to England, taught her in that short time all that Gerald was certain she knew of men. Visiting? Dressed for it, certainly. One glance through the window at that picturesque head had been sufficient. She leaned back in the cab with half-closed eyes.
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