For all that she was of exceptional intellectual enterprise, she had never yet considered these things with unaverted eyes. The lamp was not yet lit, and in the dim light he bent forward as though trying to look into her averted face. His attention drawn, the captain was easily able to make out the pretty features under the feathered hat, and the same dark riding habit the fugitive had worn on that first occasion at Remenham House. There it was—to be borrowed. It was an intimate smell, the unmistakable scent of him and another woman. Capes bore a face of infinite perplexity. Clarice was from Lombardy, fair-haired and light skinned. She felt she must suffocate if these men did not put her down, and for a time they would not put her down.
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