” “You do not deny that you are my wife,” he asked hoarsely. I wonder whether you would mind, Lady Ferringhall,” he went on, with a sudden glance at her, “if I tell you that you yourself remind me a great deal more of what she was like then, except of course that your complexion and colouring are altogether different. ” Her hand hung over the side of her chair nearest to him. It was horrible. Lucy stared like an automaton at Michelle’s unconscious 262 body, revolted at her own actions to the point of shock. The street was deserted, no pedestrian school-goers walked immediately in front or behind them.
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