Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. Sorrow lay in the back of his mind as he withdrew, but he put it aside. ‘And, if this was not enough,’ went on the lady furiously, ‘you dare to say I am French. At the door through which she had entered the room stood the so-called Monsieur Valade. She drew it out with shaking fingers. You shall tell me if I am wrong. Lucy looked about confusedly. If you don’t eat humble-pie now you may live to fare worse later. "Now, Mr. ‘You don’t mind if I sit down?’ She considered him a moment, her head a little on one side.
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