No fear o' that. The door leading to the front of the house was stealthily opening. His pride, however, would not suffer him to interfere with their proceedings; much less could he bring himself to acknowledge that he had been in the wrong, and entreat Lady Trafford to remain, though he was well aware that her life might be endangered if she travelled by night. John exited quickly from the side of the stage and returned to where his mother and father sat. Without turning or looking in his direction she leaned forwards, her head supported upon her fingers, her elbows upon her knees. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent. Sooner or later we’ll certainly do something to clean those prisons you told me about—limewash the underside of life. The picture in her mind altered and she saw again the way Gerald had looked with consternation upon the bruises he had inflicted on her wrist.
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