She could hear the bell tinkle as the horse shook its head. The lighting-up pierced the obscurity of the box, and Ramage stopped his urgent flow of words abruptly and sat back. The material cares of life hang about your neck like a millstone. This woman knows me—’ throwing the remark at Lucilla ‘—and that I am the daughter of Mary Remenham. ‘Your master in?’ he demanded of the astonished footman, removing his cockaded hat and handing it over. Montague Hill. The great ordeal—that which she had most dreaded—had proved to be no ordeal at all.
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