. ’ Leaning down, she raised the hem of the petticoat of her habit to reveal a neat little pair of boots on her feet. “I am off to-night,” he said. She held out her hand for it, but Gerald smiled. “I can get very angry. ‘Am I right in supposing you to have been a sister to the late Mr Jarvis Remenham?’ ‘Quite right. I can be that man, the one I know you want. Whatever happened she need never return to that possibility. Supposing that was it; at least, a solution to part of this amazing riddle? Supposing her father had made her assist him in the care of the derelicts solely to fill her with loathing and abhorrence for mankind? "Didn't you despise the men your father brought home—the beachcombers?" "No. Give him this letter, child, and bid him take it to the Lodge at Newgate without loss of time.
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