As she did so the preparation-room door opened behind her. Relief flooded her. Sir John filled his glass with trembling hand. ‘What mischief?’ ‘I don’t know, but I’ll go bail you’re at something. The smell of gunpowder was strong in the room. I rather think they have kicked him, from the tone of some of the letters. ‘Why do you think I told you about the portrait? I’d not seen it, of course, but I’d seen Miss Mary just before she got married, which is when it was painted. “I’ve got—I have to tell you this to make myself clear—a streak of ardent animal in my composition. The ladies can't sleep in their beds for him; and as to the men, they daren't go to bed at all. “Steady on!” he cried.
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