She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. “How did you hear that?” Lucy’s brows knitted. ‘We don’t know who she is. Suppose—suppose a girl did want to start in life, start in life for herself—” She looked him frankly in the eyes. Corbet Kynaston, then? Sir John Packington's courier was here yesterday. “But you must forgive me, John. ’ ‘Yes, but how are you going to find her?’ ‘I will ask—’ She broke off.
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