If nothing else had clinched that, the purse had. “And what was that dreadful confession you had to make?” he was saying. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. . Her girl, Clarice, was ten and just as pretty as a silver bell. There is some deep treachery hidden beneath his words. His job as a painter was wearing him down acutely as he aged. ‘But tell me this instead. When younger, and in better health, she must have been eminently lovely; and there were still the remains of great beauty about her. The procession now wound its way, without further interruption, along Holborn.
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