F. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. Caution forced her to speak calmly. “It is hard to express one’s self, but I do want to be honest with you. ‘Good, good—and not before time,’ muttered Roding, glancing round again. “To be frank with you, Lady Lescelles, when your brother asked me the other day to be his wife I was under a false impression as regards his relations—with some other person. He well knows that but two lives—those of Thames Darrell and Sir Rowland Trenchard,—stand between you and the vast possessions of the family. See paragraph 1. I know nothing about this affair, but some one has been burning documents. She was marvellously pretty, but he was not quite sure—yet—that it was advisable for him to sit with her in so public a place.
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