“I came to London,” said Ann Veronica, “rather because of my own difficulty. He knew that at this moment Ruth lay upon her bed in torment, for she was by nature tender; and the reaction of her scathing words, no matter how justifiable, would be putting scars on her soul. She crept behind the open door and pounced on him when he came out of the bathroom, knocking him onto the floor with a loud thud. Then perhaps it is Prudence?’ ‘Oh la la! That is not me at all. Since Mary predeceased Jarvis, Nicholas could scarcely argue himself to be my brother’s next of kin. Constance Widgett’s abundant copper-red hair was bent down over some dimly remunerative work—stencilling in colors upon rough, white material—at a kitchen table she had dragged up-stairs for the purpose, while on her bed there was seated a slender lady of thirty or so in a dingy green dress, whom Constance had introduced with a wave of her hand as Miss Miniver. Papillon would have broken him down; anything tender would have sapped his will; and like as not he would have left the stool and rushed into the night. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester. CHAPTER VI. I always fall on my feet, you know.
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