He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears. Before a month has elapsed, your mother will be mine. “I didn’t know you were half-Gypsy either. Thames Street was wholly impassable. Martha had not been pleased to find her spare one borrowed for that expedition when the major had found her outside the ballroom. Not wisely but too well. The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes.
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