He grabbed her hair viciously and whispered loudly into her tear-streaked face. ‘Say then, Jacques, you have followed him?’ she demanded of the blackgarbed footman. She is a fortune-teller and a vessel for man’s pleasure. “What are your objections?” she said. Not that he deliberately courted danger; it was rather the searcher, seeking analysis, the why and wherefore of this or that invading emotion. She moved her elbow nearer to him and spoke in a still lower tone. Ramage pursed his rather loose lips and shrugged his shoulders, with his eyes fixed steadily upon her. ‘I know,’ said Prudence Sindlesham, sympathy in her tone.
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