The last of Jarvis’s harlots must have departed in a hurry, for she had apparently left a roomful of clothes. If only one might open the shutters and let in the light. That was one of the compensations for having consigned himself to this part of the world. “I was very foolish to have been deceived even for a moment. Lucy grabbed its handle, her broken bones mending inside her causing her to wince in pain. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. . . Her face scarcely reflected his enthusiasm. “So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?” he remarked.
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