” She gazed at him. Then, after Capes had been through her work and had gone on, it came to her that the fabric of this life of hers was doomed to almost immediate collapse; that in a little while these studies would cease, and perhaps she would never set eyes on him again. Put out your hand and bid me God-speed. Wood fancied he recognised. ‘She? Sa femme? That is the game then? That she could dare to take my place, that salope. I’m glad the old sore is assuaged. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. . ’ ‘Gosse,’ corrected Lucilla. Oh, the scent of the flowers that day, the delicious quiet, the swallows that dived before us in the river. The picture of Mary Remenham was still on the wall. Manning’s proposal of marriage and finding she was thinking of the dance.
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