“Who is the tenant of these rooms?” he inquired. He found his youngest daughter intrusive in his thoughts all through the morning, and still more so in the afternoon. Every time he left a room, she chastised herself bitterly for her own profound weakness. Occasionally the canvas snapped as the wind veered slightly. His complexion was pale; and there was something sinister in the expression of his large black eyes. No doubt he knew enough of his world to recognise that he stood little chance against the word of a major of militia. The picture in her mind altered and she saw again the way Gerald had looked with consternation upon the bruises he had inflicted on her wrist. She could tell that they too would find their legs jutting awkwardly from the petite furniture.
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