‘And it is perhaps not so necessary that I do so, because Joan has told me of another who may like to say I am the daughter of Mary Remenham. That’s who you ought to go and see, miss. “They might do you good,” she remarked. Gay, was a stout, good-looking, good-humoured man, about thirty-six, with a dark complexion, an oval face, fine black eyes, full of fire and sensibility, and twinkling with roguish humour—an expression fully borne out by the mouth, which had a very shrewd and sarcastic curl. “You are the most perfect, the most glorious of created things—tender, frank intellectual, brave, beautiful. ’ ‘Very true.
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