“Who do you think cares for your children as you dally with my husband, Clotilde?” Lucy asked. ’ Then she frowned. He had a wild impulse to shout. Annabel, tell me that you did not wish me dead. She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. Fine woman, Lady Trafford—a little on the wane though. And after that Alice became remoter than ever, and, after a time, ill. ” Presently, as if for comparison with her father’s letter, she got out Ramage’s check from the box that contained her papers. Directly in range stood the strange young man, although he was at the far side of the loft.
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