Kneebone, on his return from Manchester. ‘You’re either mad, or in love. "Yes, loves, Winny. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. "I declare you throw me into an ague. ’ Mrs Sindlesham abruptly sat up straighter in her chair. It was high afternoon, there was no great throng of footpassengers, and many an eye from omnibus and pavement rested gratefully on her fresh, trim presence as she passed young and erect, with the light of determination shining through the quiet self-possession of her face. She was like an angel with one wing. ‘Gerald had to change both shirt and breeches. The features were indistinct, but was that not a halo of white about it? And the dark shadow below, was that a cloak, or the habit of a nun? Skirting the dancing, from which he had taken a breather—not from lack of energy, but to escape the inanities of the young ladies he had partnered—Gerald made his way to a side door in the saloon and opened it.
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