“My dear,” the letter ran, “I have to tell you that your sister Gwen has offended your father very much. And don’t tell me what you’ve been up to, dashing off to Remenham House with that Kimble lad, and Lord knows what besides, because I don’t want to know. She packed her backpack with a change of clothes, some rags, and her old length of piano wire. He liked to draw her in, and she did her best to talk. ‘I know just what he was doing. ’ Gerald sighed. It feels like too much gold-dust clutched in one’s hand.
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