’ You mean you hope you do, thought Gerald cynically. ” “Sounds good. "Ah!" exclaimed Lady Trafford, exerting all her strength. ‘What in God’s name is going on?’ Glancing swiftly towards the doorway, Gerald saw his friend’s disbelieving face and burst out, speaking over the top of Melusine as she made another grab for the little square of linen. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. " "Are you sure of that," inquired Jackson. Still, it was rather terrible to suspect that one had fallen from grace, but nevertheless the thing was possible. The girl’s gaze met his in interested inquiry. The sun was setting, casting long dreary shadows across deformed apple trees.
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