“My dear child,” he said, “with me you need have no apprehension. ” Sir John stamped his letters, brushed his hat, and carefully gave his moustache an upward curl before the looking-glass. He turned his back on that temptation. “Where have you been, young lady? I know your kind, I know you sneak out every night! How long do you think it could go on? You little murdering slut! Whore! I found you out, found your blouse! Evidence! How many of your johns have you killed why you have lived at my house? Huh? They’re going to put you away for a long time, honey. It is only a matter of time before he presents himself to whoever has the deeds to Remenham House—a lawyer I presume—and claims that property for his wife’s. ” Pause. ‘It needs not that you tell me.
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