‘What we have to find out is whether or not the wretched female is in fact Lord Charvill’s granddaughter. "Tomorrow I shall have a visitor. What a frightened fool he was! If he could not remember her name, it was equally possible that already she had forgotten his. Checking an ominous cough, that, ever and anon, convulsed her lungs, the poor woman addressed a few parting words to her companion, who lingered at the doorway as if he had something on his mind, which he did not very well know how to communicate. “None, I thank you,” he answered. Charvill’s command of French was enough to tell him that, for its entire content was devoted to commending Nicholas Charvill’s fourteen year old daughter into the care of the Abbess. Maybe the girl was telling the truth, and then again, maybe she wasn't. It is you who took my name, not I yours. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. I forget. She delighted in frustrating him.
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