There was question in Gerald’s gaze as it met hers, and apology in his voice. The theme was a masquerade. “No, I must have had hope lurking somewhere too. A dull light shone through the open window blinds and softened the room with parchment yellowness. She was surprised at his modesty. Accepting his glass from the butler, Gerald glanced at Mrs Sindlesham and saw a dimple peep out. . My foster mother, Janine, wasn’t much fatter. ‘A man who is false, who steals papers, who has a plot to take another’s name, who lies to the Mother Abbess and to me, and above all this—’ her voice near to breaking ‘—one who is French.
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