I said as how I’d tell Mr Jarvis as he wanted to take you away. He reminds me of a slave I once had in Rome with those sullen dark eyes and that wistful pout. “You will be so good as to leave us your correct name and address, mademoiselle,” he said curtly. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. ‘Come, I told you I wish to know everything about you.
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