Arrived in England, she had sought out Gosse, to keep an eye on his activities and thus keep one step ahead of him, meanwhile hoping that she might find herself another means of proof at Remenham House. It did not occur to her that they at least had found a way of earning a living, and had that much economic superiority to herself. “Do you think you’ll ever get married, Lucy?” Lucy shifted uncomfortably as she pulled her makeshift nightgown—an old T-shirt—over her head. Mr. ‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope.
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