” Annabel clutched her sister’s hands. There was nothing left now of the selfassured, prosperous man of affairs. No one had lived here since old man Remenham had died some eighteen months ago, for the heir, so it was rumoured, was a relative with property of his own. ‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. Men were going hither and thither with barrows, and ladders and ropes, removing the rubbish, and trying to support the tottering habitations. Sniveling brats, little fatherless bastards, you should breathe a sigh of relief. Ruth was inflammable; she would always be flaring up swiftly, in pity, in tenderness, in anger; she would always be answering impulses, without seeking to weigh or to analyse them. Would you tell her … now?" his eyes flaming with mockery. You know not in what dark places my life has been cast; with what crimes it has been stained.
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