It was just a chance that we in particular hit against each other—nothing predestined about it. He had mentioned teaching her how to read Latin one day when she had wandered into the library. He had offered to escort the young lady to England where she might seek refuge with her relations there, and proposed that the maid Yolande might serve Miss Charvill. ‘Now what?’ The girl’s voice was shaking, and there were, he saw now, angry tears in her eyes. They’ll know. Never for a moment had violence come between these two since long ago he had, in spite of her mother’s protest in the background, carried her kicking and squalling to the nursery for some forgotten crime. “Yes.
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