She fell into another depression, refusing to touch Sebastian or call him husband when he demanded it. "Who—who is the Marquis de Chatillon?" "Your adopted son, Thames Darrell," answered Winifred. At length she hit upon it: bubbling water. Her eyebrows, pulled down by the stress of thought, now resumed their normal arches; and pleased with her discovery, she smiled. "Swear that you will do this," she cried. "I'll be back in a minute. . I have always hated it. Nothing is of any concern of ours except the discovery of the man’s identity.
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