“We are both of us trenching upon forbidden ground,” she said. . These daughters! He gnawed his pen and reflected, tore the sheet up, and began again. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. How many nuns were there in England who might have occasion to spy on Lady Bicknacre’s ballroom? The presence of the French refugees took on greater significance. Loved his memory still, for all he knew. Her usual dignified reserve had availed her nothing. ‘Parbleu, but what a person you make me! One who spies.
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