When he was concentrating, deep shadows formed under his gray eyes. Too intent on her search, and convinced besides that she was quite alone, she had been an easy prey. I am not angry with you, but with this—this—’ ‘Idiot? Imbecile?’ offered Gerald in a helpful tone. To witness this girl sewing on a loose button, flopping the coat about on her knees, tickled his ironic sense of humour; and laughter bubbled into his throat. He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver. I’ve always had a sneaking desire for the writing-trade.
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