The slack cloth of her habit caught on a curlicue in the carved back of the pew in front, pulling her suddenly about. You might trust me with the Chevalier himself,—I'd never betray him. It must be my fault that you have not learnt that your husband is the man to come to—at such a time as this. But I am not worthy to be any man's wife —far less his wife. But if we had gone under—!” They regarded one another silently, and Ann Veronica had one of her penetrating flashes. The two aunts of these young ladies lived for many years in the dower house upon my estate in Hampshire. I had two slices. Of you, I mean. “But—your people!” she gasped. Bah.
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