” “You are jealous,” she declared contemptuously. " "Nothing," echoed Wood furiously. She knew that in her new rôle she was as likely as not to be a rank failure. The knight, who could ill brook this familiarity, instantly arose. ‘Charvill?’ uttered Roding frowningly. ‘I do not wish to be like him, but it is entirely reasonable that it should be so. I wonder whether you would mind, Lady Ferringhall,” he went on, with a sudden glance at her, “if I tell you that you yourself remind me a great deal more of what she was like then, except of course that your complexion and colouring are altogether different. It seemed intolerable that she should go home and admit herself beaten. But at this, he halted, turning his frowning gaze back on her. What could she do? Reluctantly, at a second curt command, she began to step across the uncarpeted floor, her eyes never leaving the threatening pistol. ‘How could you possibly know it?’ ‘I know it,’ Lucilla told him frostily, ‘because Dorothée told me that Madame Valade went off with Gerald positively purring in her ear—which is a thing he never does—and came back with him looking like the cat after cream. ” She smiled at him.
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