"My portrait!" echoed Jack. And the fact that it was dressed in riding gear had fooled her into thinking it was her own image. The poor wretch, driven by desperation to the commission of a crime which her soul abhors, is no more beyond the hope of reformation than she is without the pale of mercy. At least for one moment, it was. ‘Major Alderley, ma’am, and General Lord Charvill. He awoke, strangely content. ‘You! Have you pen and paper?’ ‘Pen and paper now, is it?’ grumbled the old man as he shuffled down the hall. ’ ‘You wouldn’t,’ agreed Mrs Sindlesham.
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