’ ‘Who were they?’ she asked abruptly. ‘And that Suzanne, the sister of my cousin the vicomte, must choose between Monsieur Charvill and her brother. He had hurt her. What happened at Dollis Hill. He waited for an instant, wasting an encouraging smile in the imperfect light, and then shut the doors of the van, leaving the women in darkness. No matter how swiftly he pursued this riddle, he could not bring it to a halt. She so wanted to keep her memory of him fresh, so wanted to memorize his kisses and to conjure his embrace someday when he was mere dust in the ground. Imagine her, putting herself to all this delay and inconvenience for a young wastrel she did not know and who, the moment he got on his feet, would doubtless pass out of her life without so much as Thank you! And it was ten to one that she would not comprehend the ingratitude. Gossip was the driving force in Sheila’s existence.
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