He called a waiter. The recollection of all her unhappiness, the loveless years, the unending loneliness, the injustice of it, rolled up to her lips in verbal lava. ’ ‘So you think she is an émigré?’ Lucilla put in before the incensed Roding could respond. In the distance a bell clanged, and chattering broke out in the doorway as several nuns came crowding in. It was maddening to be made to feel that he was in any way the inferior of this cool, self-possessed young woman, whose eyes seemed for a moment to scintillate with scorn. It was a habit she had taken from Remenham House, but could not wear because of the colour which must draw attention.
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