Chapter XXI HER SISTER’S SECRET “I think,” Lady Ferringhall said, “that you are talking very foolishly. ’ Lucilla burst into laughter and clapped her hands. She stared down at them from a high window, peering down at their moonlit faces in the bed heavy with furs, the same bed where she had given birth to Gianfrancesco’s dead son. He was suddenly calm. But did any woman get anything better from a man? Perhaps every woman conceals herself from a man perforce!. On reflection, it occurred to him that he might, perhaps, be able to loosen the iron fillet; a notion no sooner conceived than executed. There are also the letters which were scattered about Wild's room after the murder of Sir Rowland. Only Leonardo, and then Jack, had shown her that she might be admired.
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