Spurlock grew cold. But his treasured dream lay shattered at his feet. Before her stretched blank spaces, dotted with running people coming toward her, and below them railings and a statue. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. And Mr. Ramage came for her at her lodgings, and she met him graciously and kindly as a queen who knows she must needs give sorrow to a faithful liege. I HAD to. She was not quite clear how she should find it, but she felt she would.
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