My reception at West Kensington you know of. The crowning aspect of the incident, for her mind, was the discovery that he and her indiscretion with him no longer mattered very much. ‘Gérard!’ ‘Yes, it’s I,’ he said, and grinned. ’ ‘Then what?’ demanded Lucilla in a hushed tone. A full-curled wig descended half-way down his back and shoulders; a neckcloth of "right Mechlin" was twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath, and threaten him with apoplexy; he had lace, also, at his wrists and bosom; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes. The less she lived, in fact, the better. Jack turned away with an aching heart. Impressionable, lonely, a deal beyond his analytical reach, the girl might let her sympathies go beyond those of the nurse.
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