I want to get away—to go to London. “You certainly got him in the bag. "Take off these chains, Rowland," said Lady Trafford, "instantly, I command you. She is your sister, and God knows I wish her none. Next instant he had her immobilised, her hands behind her back, her chest crushed to his, the white veil slipping once again. Did she suppose him a possible pretender to her daughter’s hand? The girl—Dorothée, if memory served—was clearly marriageable, but he imagined most of these unhappy exiles were all but penniless. She would become defensive—what she did would be the thing that mattered. Then the lady smiled and her radiance, even in the darkness, warmed Gerald unexpectedly.
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