” “I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our lot. She was alone with a deadly enemy. Lord Charvill champed upon an invisible bit for a moment or two, closing the gap between himself and the girl, and muttering the name to himself in an overwrought sort of way. “Glad to see you in London. He had one son, who had been co-educated, and three daughters with peculiarly jolly red hair that Ann Veronica found adorable. Now tell me, if you can, something about the man who calls himself Valade. I ——” He stopped short. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes bright. Only I do not care to write about anything else. CHAPTER V.
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