At the least, the tales had the ability to make her forget where she was; which was something in their favour. “Lots of ‘em!” Capes chuckled. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt. Where the stuff came from was always a mystery. The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight. Manning relinquished his cup, and looked meaningly at Ann Veronica. "You depart for Lancashire to-morrow.
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