“I wish that I could forget it,” he said. Perhaps there were experiences she would never confide to any man. ’ ‘A pox on the creature,’ swore Mrs Sindlesham, clenching and unclenching her stiff fingers. “Dreadful women, my dear!” said Miss Stanley. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice. . Tears flowed in rivulets down 121 her cheeks and she began to cry. ‘Would you like me to enquire for your mystery lady, Gerald? I know the Comte and Comtesse de St Erme quite well.
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