Alice had banished her ghost to the back of her mind. Perhaps if she had not been so determined to fall in love with Sir Peregrine, so determined to lead him to the altar and show a certain supernatural manifestation that she could manage very well on her own, she would have given Sir Peregrine his marching orders long ago.

Another thing forced her to keep close to Sir Peregrine’s side. Everywhere that Alice went, Lord Webb and his unlovely friend, Harry Russell, seemed to appear too. Their eyes were always fastened on her, studying every line of her dress and every single jewel she wore. Alice had noticed that Miss Snapper was conspicuous by her absence, but was too relieved at the fact to question further.

One chilly autumn day when the leaves in the London parks were already turning dusty brown and gold, Mr. Bower, Alice’s business manager, called at Manchester Square.

He was a small, chubby little man with a perpetual air of sadness about him, making him look like a baby that has dropped its rattle.

His air on that day was sadder than ever. Madame La Comtesse, he explained, would need to sell more jewels to furnish him with the necessary funds to pay her staff and the rent of her house. Alice went gaily upstairs to the jewel box and threw back the lid. Could there be so few left? A cold fear clutched at her heart. She realized she had been handing jewel after jewel over to Mr. Bower, blithely thinking the box was bottomless. She realized she could not marry Sir Peregrine, even if she wanted to. For she somehow could not let her ghost know—should she ever see him again—that she had managed her affairs so badly. She would have to marry someone with money. In this decision, Alice was not being particularly hardhearted or mercenary. Love among the aristocracy was something you indulged in after you were married, but you certainly didn’t let it interfere with anything so important as marriage settlements before.

She gathered up some of the remaining necklaces and brooches and went slowly downstairs to the drawing room. Miss Fadden and Mr. Bower were sitting with their heads together and started rather guiltily when she entered.

Mr. Bower stowed the jewels away in a wash-leather bag and then took his leave, looking even more miserable than ever.