There he paused again, half turning his back and pretending to look for someone among the soldiers on the benches. “Who are you?” She asked innocently. She had lost her nerve, and there was no more freedom in London for her that night. Supper was over. ’ ‘Ah, but there’s the little matter of your presence here,’ said Gerald on a note of apology. From the threshold she looked her accuser steadily and coldly in the face. ’ ‘Fiddle,’ scoffed Miss Froxfield. He made some obvious comments on the wide view warming toward its autumnal blaze that spread itself in hill and valley, wood and village, below. She shuddered. I am very, very sorry, but you must listen to me. ” She shook her head. The audience clapped more heartily. And she was about as capable of intelligent argument as a runaway steam-roller. " "Your secret?" demanded Trenchard, impatiently.
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