"O, Lord!" ejaculated Wood. It was rude and disrespectful to raise her eyes to him, her mother had warned. And yet, at the end of this prayer a subconscious thought broke through to consciousness. Gerald took Madame’s hand and kissed the fingers with a little more warmth than punctilio demanded. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. “Think of what people will say!” That became a refrain. She saw her discarded nun’s habit still on the floor and scooped it up. “Really it is very kind of you to have found me out. Better check on Remenham House, I suppose. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. She had just this moment past told him that Monsieur Valade came to her after the tragedy, to the convent, from where he married her and brought her to England. He had never wanted daughters. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years.
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