She tried to imagine the collective effect of the Fadden Ball; she had never seen a fancy-dress gathering in her life. Vite, I pray you. Mary Remenham had passed on her every feature to the daughter whose advent had taken her from this world. It isn’t. “Why come after me after all these years, Sebastianus? Haven’t you found any sycophants to convert, any nubile young nymphets to bring into the cannibal flock?” “Why should I do that if there is still the chance of you?” “What if there could be no chance of me? How do you know you can have me?” “I see your game. She didn’t choose her man. I proceeded to Manchester, to investigate the matter further, and when there ascertained, beyond a doubt, that you were the eldest daughter of Sir Montacute Trenchard. For fifteen years!—so long as I can remember! All I wanted was a little love, a caress now and then.
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