" He sent the doctor a sly glance. ‘You said—who?’ ‘Remenham. When the paroxysm passed, he was forced to lean against the window-jamb for support. Henry Clay, thirteen cents in Hong-Kong and two-bits in that dear old New York. You tried bravely enough to hide your preference, to look at us all with the same eyes, to speak to us in the same tone. But I wanted to find out more, partly so I could share it with him. Mrs. Stanley decided to treat that as irrelevant. That last year in Paris, when Annabel and she had lived in different worlds, had often been a nightmare to her.
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