After the first violent outbreak of grief had in some degree subsided, Thames addressed him. His lovely black eyes softened until they became like languid as the night sky. And now I find, when it is too late, that I might have deserved you—that I am as well born as Thames Darrell. What were you doing at Remenham House? I can’t puzzle that bit out. ‘Do not say such things, you—you imbecile.
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