“It was the night you left Paris. ‘What we have to find out is whether or not the wretched female is in fact Lord Charvill’s granddaughter. This fruit was McClintock's particular pride. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse. Having heard from Thames that you were better, and that your sole anxiety was about me, I came to give you the first intelligence of my escape.
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