But he was a thief, a fugitive from justice. Cheveney was another Paris friend, was he?” she asked. ‘How dull it must have been for you, poor little one. If I did not love you so much I believe I could win you by sheer force of character, for people tell me I am naturally of the dominating type. Pramlay received them in the pretty chintz drawing-room, which opened by French windows on the trim garden, with its croquet lawn, its tennis-net in the middle distance, and its remote rose alley lined with smart dahlias and flaming sunflowers. ‘What is the matter?’ ‘Is there nothing you do not know?’ she asked faintly.
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