She took it for granted Ann Veronica wore stays—mild stays, perhaps, but stays, and thought no more of the matter. Winifred, accordingly, left the room, and a servant being despatched to the nearest tavern, soon afterwards returned with a crown bowl of the ambrosian fluid. With astonishment, Gerald saw a rheumy film rimming his old commander’s eyes. But the free arm of the stranger hit him a flail-like blow on the chest and sent him sprawling into the yielding sand. Now, as she stared at the image of her own face, she recalled something Major Alderley had said. “I don’t see what he has to do with my coming to London?” “He—he worships the ground you tread on. “I want some advice,” said Ann Veronica. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her.
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