She hid behind a mirage of piety, just as I do. Went up to Somerset House to examine the will before he did it. If you do not find your aunt, my people will take you under wing until you can stand on your own. ‘Been led up the garden path by that confounded rapscallion. As you admitted to me—one has to square one’s self with the world. She had been obliged to spend the night in that fateful bedchamber, the faithful Kimble—who had foraged at a nearby inn, bringing back a large pie and a jug of porter for his mistress—guarding the door outside. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. She still kicked herself for it.
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