Go back at once, please. Wood, with a message for Lady Trafford. ’ ‘Comment? You wish to murder me?’ ‘No, I wish to beat you,’ he retorted. Wood, whose admiration for masculine beauty was by no means abated, glanced at the well-proportioned figure of the young man, and made him a very civil salutation. They got on wonderfully well together. His face, as he looked down where his hand sought for a weapon concealed in her petticoat, was so close that she could see only the line of his firm jaw, the drag of his powdered hair that drew it into the military pigtail, and the black ribbon that adorned it.
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