His name was Peter. Indeed, it seemed inevitable that she must clear it up with his assistance, or not at all. If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. ‘And I trust you will pardon my inadequacies. Your own safety—the child's safety—depends upon your candour. Not a breath was drawn. He occupied one of the smaller houses near the station. . ‘You give me an excellent excuse to have in the Madeira,’ said his hostess, reaching for a silver hand bell and setting it pealing.
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