She feared he might take her tears as a sign of weakness. For a few days she was fascinated by the place, exploring the moldy rooms, the weird treasures hiding in forgotten trousseaus. The intoxicating sense of novelty had given place to a more business-like mood. The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight. I knew it. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. ‘Let us go elsewhere and discuss the matter. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips.
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