The hand which the man had been holding hung limp and nerveless at her side. “You’re a student, perhaps?” said the tall woman. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. ’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. Darting to a window looking in that direction, Thames threw it up, and discharged both his pistols, but without effect.
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