 “What I am going to do is find a man.” The speaker was Cassandra Belmont, the widowed Lady Paget. She was standing at the sitting room window of the house she had rented on Portman Street in London. The house had come fully furnished, but the furnishings as well as the curtains and carpets had seen better days. They had probably seen better days even ten years ago. It was a shabby genteel place, well suited to Lady Paget’s circumstances. “To marry?” Alice Haytor, her lady’s companion, asked, startled. Cassandra watched with world-weary eyes and scornfully curved lips as a woman walked past in the street below, ... | 
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