I had dreamt of the olive grove beyond the courtyard I had once been fascinated 198 with as a boy. She left for good after he fell asleep. I was sorry for what I did afterwards; for, I don't know why, but, poor, lady! with her pale face, and black eyes, she reminded me of my mother. It has all been a mistake. What sort of proof? There are no papers at Remenham House. Everything. Though Gerald must suppose it was inevitable she should eventually come here. Get you gone. But why do you ask?" "Because—" stammered the boy. ‘You are not the only one to seek them out,’ he said.
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