‘It is not for myself, you understand,’ pursued the man, in an unctuous tone that sickened the general, ‘but for this poor one. You have changed from the veriest butterfly to a woman—you wear different clothes, you have the air of another world. Open that bottle with a blue seal, my dear. She had looked up from her seat at the small round table in the centre of the parlour which, together with the wooden armchairs beside the small fireplace, and a sideboard next the single casement, was all the furniture the place afforded. The expression pervading the countenance of the one was vulgarity; of the other, that which is rarely found, except in persons of high birth. Mademoiselle has had no harm of me,’ Gerald said soothingly and bowed. The vestry door opened to the mews behind, and not to Golden Square.
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