She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered. “Let us sit down for a moment,” he had said. To them all I am nothing. It was a habit she had taken from Remenham House, but could not wear because of the colour which must draw attention. Outside the door he turned and stared at the panels. “David Courtlaw!” she repeated. She went to the table under the end window at which she had been accustomed to work, and found it swept and garnished with full bottles of re-agents. He will wish to have his fears laid to rest. But I do not love you. .
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