— 37 —Alone in her despised room, Olivia Sacret faced her situation. She had a few pounds in her reticule, a few pounds in the bank—this was all that was left of what she had earned and extorted during her stay at the Old Priory.
Money, the diamond bracelet, the set of emeralds, even her present from Martin Rue she had given to the painter; he had also her fine trunks, full of fine clothes, and the letters that constituted her only hold on Susan. She forced herself, with the cold courage that had supported her through the whole adventure, to consider her position; she had been duped from the first, and, in a way, had always been aware of this. She had not really believed anything he had told her, he had never given her the slightest proof of his good faith. She had wanted to be deceived,
