‘She’s gone. Whether it was the nun’s habit or the harlot’s clothing that distressed her more, he could not begin to guess. Mary Remenham had passed on her every feature to the daughter whose advent had taken her from this world. At the first glance, he imagined he must have stumbled upon a museum of rarities, there were so many glass-cases, so many open cabinets, ranged against the walls; but the next convinced him that if Jonathan was a virtuoso, his tastes did not run in the ordinary channels. She answered in whispers, for there was the white arm of a woman in the next box peeping beyond the partition within a yard of him. This man was her husband in the eyes of both God and man. Yet the thing hidden within her called and called. " "You mustn't think of that, Mrs. “You don’t want to go?” “No. Try your luck with Jarvis Remenham—if you will. “But, forgive me, you are tired. E.
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