It was now getting dusk, and he could only imperfectly distinguish the features and figure of the stranger. Reluctantly she found him beguiling after he had eaten. “Will he die?” she asked. “I am staying at the Savoy. Of a certainty, she also was imbecile. ’ ‘Where are we going?’ ‘Back to Blaye, my girl. She exhaled, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders and arms. He turned, expecting to see his wife. Gerald realised Lucy had taken the hint, for she dragged her betrothed towards the door. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. “Drive to 13, Montague Street, cabman,” she ordered.
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