Lucy stared at the girl for a long ten seconds, and then looked away. She had worried in fear that the excitement would be too much for him. ‘Didn’t mean it, love. She was a trained being—trained by an implacable mother to one end. “I’m not the Devil. Still, it was rather terrible to suspect that one had fallen from grace, but nevertheless the thing was possible. About this time,—namely, in November, 1703— while young Trenchard was in Lancashire, and his sister in London, on a visit, he received a certain communication from his confidential servant, Davies, which, at once, destroyed his hopes. ” The official frowned. She felt like a dried-up old woman. In this moment he could have stamped upon the Wastrel's face, and ended the affair; but all that was clean in him, chivalrous, revolted at the thought.
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