“Well, you certainly did very well at tea,” she remarked. ‘No need to shake in your boots,’ Gerald said soothingly. It was precisely two o'clock on the morning of Whit-monday, the 25th of May 1724, when the remarkable escape before detailed was completed: and, though it wanted full two hours to daybreak, the glimmer of a waning moon prevented it from being totally dark. Only the major won’t have it, and we’ve to bide by what the major says. I must not let you go again. ‘For God’s sake, let go my hand,’ he begged. ‘Troops?’ ‘Go, man,’ urged the major in an undervoice. By now the horses would be rested and he might go as swiftly back again. Before we start, I'll accommodate you with a pair of ruffles. I seek chaos, but not out of choice. ‘I cannot possibly shoot a lady, you know.
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