He uttered a short laugh. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. . A crisis had been reached, and she was almost glad it had been reached. “Okay. The silence grew unbearable, so she asked, \"What is your surname, John?\" \"My surname? You mean my last name?\" \"Yes. What had actually beaten him was not to have known if someone had picked up his trail. This laugh and his looks alarmed her.
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