"Oh." She seemed relieved. "Yes. I see. I think I recall something-something pale." She nodded, becoming more assured. "Yes, a pale jacket, such as gentlemen sometimes wear in the summer."

"Was he bearded, or clean shaven?"

She hesitated only a moment. "Clean shaven."

"Can you remember anything else about his appearance? Was he dark or fair, large or small?"

"I-I don't know. I-" She took a sharp breath. "I suppose I must have had my eyes closed. It was…"

"Hush, dear," Julia said quickly, tightening her hand on Marianne's shoulder again. "Really, Mr. Monk, she cannot tell you anything more of him. It is a most terrible experience. I am only glad it has not turned her mind. Such things have been known to."

Monk retreated, uncertain just how far he ought to press. It was a terror and revulsion he could only imagine. Nothing could show to him her experience.

"Are you sure you wish to pursue it?" he asked as gently as he could, looking not at Julia but at Marianne.

However, as before, it was Julia who answered.

"We must." There was resolute decision in her voice. "Quite apart from justice, she must be protected from ever encountering this man again. You must persevere, Mr. Monk. What else is there that we can tell you that may be of use?"

"Perhaps you would show me the summerhouse?" he asked, rising to his feet.

"Of course," Julia agreed immediately. "You must see it, or how else can you judge for yourself?" She looked at Marianne. "Do you wish to come, dear, or would you rather not?" She turned back to Monk. "She has not been there since it happened."

Monk was about to say that he would be present to protect her from any danger, then realized just in time that being alone with a man she had newly met might in itself be enough to alarm her. He felt he was foundering. It was going to be even harder than he had anticipated.