He held her eyes. ’ She seemed to recollect herself suddenly. This gloom was impossible. Why should you who are queens come down from your thrones? If you can afford it, WE can’t. ’ He sat up. ’ He gave the gaping Pottiswick a shove, passing him on to his junior, who was waiting patiently by the kitchen door. On the other a wretched engraving of the Chevalier de Saint George, or, as he was styled in the label attached to the portrait, James the Third, raised a suspicion that the inmate of the house was not altogether free from some tincture of Jacobitism. ‘Well?’ she said.
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