Gerald, meanwhile, was off hunting up these lawyers, together with your son, ma’am—’ turning to Mrs Sindlesham ‘—and you know the outcome of that. The coach in which the prisoner had been conveyed was already broken to pieces, and the driver was glad to escape with life. I felt—I felt living in a masked world. “What can you do?” she asked. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. The ink, contained in a grimy bottle unearthed in the outhouse, was old, and made blotches as soon as it touched the paper. ” “Why did you keep her all of these years? What good can it do?” “She created me, Lucia.
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