Beyond was another door, on which was painted in black letters: MR. “You propose, then,” she remarked, “that I shall still be saddled with a pseudo husband. Through one doorway she saw a grave Chinaman standing on a stage-like platform. Vorsack sauntered into the room, sporting her usual toothy thin254 lipped grin. The little grating in the door, the sense of constant inspection, worried her. Vitally, she had the letter that proved her identity as a Charvill: the one her father had written to the Abbess when he sent her to the convent.
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