A day will come when you will thank me. She rambles continually about Jack, and her husband, and that wretch Jonathan, to whom, as far as can be gathered from her wild ravings, she attributes all her misery. “Let me see,” she said to herself, trying to control a slight sinking of the heart, “I am going to take a room in a lodging-house because that is cheaper. “Good-bye, Miss Pellissier, and success to you,” he said. It felt wonderful and golden to bask in the sunlight of their approval, even if their approval was fickle and dangerous. For a moment her thoughts led her back to the evening when she and Courtlaw had stood together before the window of her studio in Paris, before the coming of Sir John had made so many changes in her life. “Perhaps, as I’ve only just arrived,” she remarked, “I might be forgiven if I do not change my skirt. You'll do. ‘What, is Nicholas dead?’ He saw the two of them exchange glances and an instinct of danger rose up. The grate was full of fluttering ashes of burnt paper, and the easy chair near the fire had evidently been used. “What have you done?” 212 “It is your own fault, Lucia.
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