“It’s jolly,” he said, “to feel you have come to me. Either you have had to love people or hate them—which is a sort of love, too, in its way—to get anything out of them. "Who—who is the Marquis de Chatillon?" "Your adopted son, Thames Darrell," answered Winifred. It is one of God’s laws that a woman may defend her honour, even with the shedding of blood. Before I met you I never met any one whom I felt I could love, but you have discovered depths in my own nature I had scarcely suspected. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. There sprang from that a vague hope that perhaps she might extort a capitulation from her father by a threat to seek that position, and then with overwhelming clearness it came to her that whatever happened she would never be able to tell her father about her debt.
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