The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea. That day Gerald had brought her to this excessively careful house, where she had felt very much alone and very unlike herself. Her father’s step quickened to a trot. The old woman told him she had no such article to dispose of, but recommended him to a neighbouring blacksmith. ‘Lord,’ he uttered, glancing about with a disparaging eye. But next moment, Captain Roding put up her back. “You are the type that I want to marry someday, you’ve got a beautiful body, such pretty eyes. She, having all the confidence in the world, ripped off an end and drew out the contents—a letter and a check.
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