"You're only twenty—not legally of age. Mr. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. She became aware that at regular intervals a light flashed upon her face and a bodiless eye regarded her, and this, as the night wore on, became a torment. I thought it was a mirror at the first, for it was so very like myself. ’ Lucilla eyed him with one of those particularly feminine looks it was difficult for a mere male to interpret. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. In their opinion a hundred pounds would not repair the damage done to the prison.
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