“Why not?” Lady Lescelles answered. ’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. The agony on the sands now ceased to puzzle her. “I heard the other day that she’d been taken in by some cad of a fellow who was cutting a great dash in Paris, personating Meysey Hill, the great railway man. ” She looked away from him. It was enough that she witnessed it and could not go to him. The storm appeared to have blown over, for they were conversing in a very amicable manner with Mr. Fiercely defensive, as usual. His own heart was too full of melancholy foreboding. But most of all, I wanted to love. " "Ah, yes; that coat.
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