’ ‘I was called in, ma’am, to catch a French spy—at least, that is what Pottiswick thought. Well, I'd no idea," she continued, pursuing her ruminations as she left the room, "that people of quality laughed so. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. A jar of pink roses upon a tiny table seemed to gain an extra delicacy of colour from the sombre curtains behind. She ran down alleyways and between buildings, faster than an Olympian, until she could hear his voice no more.
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