She succumbed to cancer of the breast at age forty-three, it was slow and wasting. “Who can tell?” she said. “This girl—she’s really a very charming, frank person—had had her imagination fired, so she told me, by a school performance of Romeo and Juliet. ‘I suppose I need not ask to which other soldier you refer. Her eyes were soft and grave, and there was the faintest of smiles upon her resolute lips. "And when I further tell you," continued Jack, "that, after yourself and my mother, I am the next heir to the estates of my grandfather, Sir Montacute Trenchard, you will perhaps own that my caution is sufficiently disinterested. She was not quite clear how she should find it, but she felt she would. . ‘I am entirely English. I have no right to love you.
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