’ ‘But you don’t look anything like her,’ burst out Mrs Ibstock. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. If any of you—or all of you feel the same in six months’ time from to-day, will you come, if you care to, and see me then?” There was a brief silence. “Oh yes,” said Miss Klegg; “I thought every one knew. Me—I’m nothing but a country wench, and one who went to the bad.
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