He knew my name, and also that I had been living in Paris, and a man doesn’t risk claiming a girl for his wife, as a rule, for nothing. Lucy jammed her foot down onto Mark McCloskey’s forehead. "My child!" he groaned faintly. Tears flowed in rivulets down 121 her cheeks and she began to cry. It was not the arrival of the guests, but merely the maid moving about in the hall. “I’m sorry, ma’am, to seem the cause of any disturbance, but this,” he pointed to Anna, “is my wife. “And of course you are my niece just as Annabel is, although I am sorry to learn that your conduct has been much less discreet than hers. Await me in the coach.
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