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Chapter XVII THE CHANGE IN “ALCIDE” “By-the-bye,” his neighbour asked him languidly, “who is our hostess?” “Usually known, I believe, as Lady Ferringhall,” Ennison answered, “unless I have mixed up my engagement list and come to the wrong house. Brown engaged in the usual browbeating and complaining he reserved for sections who came in late and soloists who left tempo behind like the leftovers of a Sunday picnic. You must be lonely here with only a few men friends. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. There was a certain amount of disputation, and meanwhile she went on at school. “Why not?” He repeated, demanding. The entire city seemed to exist for beauty and art alone. He had tossed an honoured name into the mire; he required no prison bars to accentuate this misery. And, setting down the link, he proceeded deliberately to untie his cravat. ‘Precisely,’ agreed Gerald. There was no mistaking his intentions this time.
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