These were the Master of the Mint, Van Galgebrok, and Mrs. “Women are mocked,” she said. “That sounds so uncouth,” she murmured. The day before this examination was appointed to take place—the third of the prisoner's detention—an old man, respectably dressed, requested permission to see him. But let the horses be in readiness. As soon as the manacles were slipped over the prisoner's wrists, and the new padlock secured to the staple, they withdrew. “Where are they?” She looked around. The vast mirrored chamber, with its four little square window bays, two either side of the large raised dais that led to the French doors, was very full of company for the start of the Little Season. You’re such a strange girl.
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