" "Of course," rejoined Kneebone, a little maliciously, "but that's easily accounted for. Personally, however, I doubt if—’ ‘Charvill?’ interrupted Gerald without ceremony, all his senses at once on the alert. Kneebone made his appearance. As he proceeded, other painful reminiscences were aroused. ‘Oh no, you don’t,’ said Gerald in a low tone. ‘Therefore she cannot be the daughter of Suzanne Valade. The little spot of rouge was vivid enough now by reason of this new pallor, which seemed to draw the colour even from her lips. Nevertheless, relief washed over her, her body rejoicing in the afterglow of twenty years of tension released. He tore it down just as the Wastrel rose, wavering slightly. With a finger crooked in his side-pocket, she measured her step with his, her senses still dizzy from the echo of the magic sounds.
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