‘Oh, a mere temporary thing--a kind of sunstroke, or something of that sort,’ said the voice she remembered so well. That was hardly altered at all. ‘Where did you meet Mrs. Marchmont? Was it an accident, or did you know we were here?’ he continued impatiently. Minna was glad of the torrent of questions, which she proceeded to answer categorically. He did not pay much attention to what she said to him, but continued to follow with his eyes every movement of his wife, as she moved hither and thither about the room. Minna began to realize something of the facts of the case. The man into whose power Fulvia had been sold while still a child was now a miserable, hopeless invalid, as helplessly in her power as she had been in his. She was strong. She had force of character and stamina of constitution. She had inherited her mother’s strong will and her father’s mental ability. She had got over the horrors and miseries of the first stage--slavery. The reins had now fallen into her hands, and she had grasped them firmly. She had not the least intention of letting them go. That she felt the faintest spark of affection for this wretched little mummy on the couch, even in this helpless invalid condition, Minna could not for an instant believe. Everything about her, in her attitude, her look, her manner, in the tone of her voice, in the deliberate calm glance she cast upon the face that so eagerly followed her every movement, spoke of the complete mastery she enjoyed, of the unlimited power she exercised. She had evidently conquered in the fight--there must have been a fight with herself as well as with him--conquered fully and without reserve. No victory is bloodless, either materially or metaphorically; no possession is gained without a price having to be paid for it, sooner or later. At what price had Fulvia gained her victory? Minna wondered. What had she given up in return for the power she had acquired? Such questions rushed vaguely and hastily through her mind, as she tried to reply to Marchmont’s questions, seeing plainly that he was not listening, and that he thought her presence a frightful bore. Fulvia presently seated herself near to them, and observed coolly: ‘I told you what Mrs. Hastings had said about there being a place near to her which was to let. I told you last night. Did you think about it at all?’ ‘A place to let--oh yes! Yes, I thought about it. It’s such a confoundedly long way from London to where you live, Mrs. Hastings,’ he said restlessly. ‘No place in England is far from London now,’ replied Minna. ‘It only takes six hours--not quite as much by a flying express.’ ‘No--no; that’s true. Fulvia seems to have quite set her mind on going to see this place. She says she’s going with you when you leave London. When do you leave London?’ ‘In less than a week now.’