To his relief, she nodded. ‘Me, I am Mademoiselle Charvill, the granddaughter of Monsieur Jar-vis Re-men-ham. The hardest bout I ever had was with a woman—Sally Wells, who was afterwards lagged for shoplifting. ‘I—I mean, she were—’ ‘Pretty as a picture?’ suggested Gerald. Well, this was the side of the world where things like that happened. He walked her home. Presently. I suppose it is the mirrors and decorations. Her slender throat was encircled by a black riband, with a small locket attached to it; and upon the top of her head rested a diminutive lace cap.
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