’ He had abandoned the “sir”, Gerald noted, realising that the footman’s respect for him had dropped sharply. You see, I—I am a woman worshipper. “Were you ever in love, aunt?” she asked. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. And he, her lawful husband, dared not go to her and console her! Accursed—all of them— Enschede, Ruth, and himself.
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