Some people have luck, haven't they ?' She reproduced it as accurately as she could, read it through again, and then pushed it aside.

With set lips she resumed her work, and by midnight she had put in the last stitch and fastened the last thread.
That she should do so was essential to the plan she had in her mind.
For she had already determined what to do.

Within forty-eight hours she would be in London.

If he had really disowned and betrayed her--or if he had merely grown tired of her and wished to be quit of her--in either case she would soon discover what it behoved her to know.
When at last, in the utter silence of midnight, she took up her candle to go to bed, its light fell, as she moved towards the door, on the portrait of himself that Fenwick had left with her at Christmas.

She looked at it long, dry-eyed.