“I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house. Next instant he had her immobilised, her hands behind her back, her chest crushed to his, the white veil slipping once again. Morality is a point of view. Hadn’t the stomach to admit the truth, had he? I’ll lay any money he labelled you with some foul French name as well. But what if she were to marry? He glanced towards the elderly dame and found her watching him, the dimple very much in evidence. That terrible laughter, just before his senses had left him! Why? Here was a word that volleyed at her from all directions, numbed and bewildered her: the multiple echoes of her own first utterance of the word. Aware of the footman hovering, and the hackney coachman’s curious eyes looking down from his box, Gerald leaned a little towards her and spoke in a lowered tone. “I am afraid—I really think that one of us ought to go with you,” he said. The clanking of chains, the grating of locks, and the rumbling of bolts must have been music in Jonathan's ears, so much pains did he take to subject himself to such sounds. But his glance roved, to the door through which Ruth had gone, to Enschede's drooping back. In Darrell's open features, frankness and honour were written in legible characters; while, in Jack's physiognomy, cunning and knavery were as strongly imprinted. Earles was absolutely indifferent.
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