“You were really at Moulton House,” she exclaimed penitently. ’ ‘She told you!’ ‘And,’ pursued Gerald, ignoring his friend’s scornful interjection, ‘that it was not always convenient to be dressed as a young girl. Lucy looked at the stains on the threadbare carpeting to distract herself, embarrassed to her core. That’s who you ought to go and see, miss. . You have been her guardian angel. I don’t care what else there is in the world. But she did not in the least want to do that. ’ The full story—or as much as Gerald knew—of Valade’s machinations shocked the old lady so much that she was obliged to recruit her strength with a refill from the Madeira decanter. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting.
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