His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. Kneebone, his impertinence was copied to the letter by Solomon. And it’s no good pretending there is one when there isn’t. The face of the man who lay there was clearly visible. Here would be a woman perfectly unrecognizable, strong, ruthless but just. I am yours for the making over. Like the nuns, she hardly ever looked in a mirror.
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