This was David Courtlaw, whose ways, too, had never been very different from the ways of other men as regards her sex. It penetrated the skin; benumbed the flesh; paralysed the faculties. She thought she had hidden well from him. That was how she projected it, and in general terms it seemed plausible and possible. There was nothing to be learned from her face. He filled his pipe slowly. Words of encouragement and sympathy were addressed to Jack, who, as he looked around, beheld many a friendly glance fixed upon him. ‘Now then, girl. "You are no longer Thames Darrell," she said, casting her eyes rapidly over it; "but the Marquis de Chatillon.
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