She walked over to them still carrying the trousers in her hands, and stooped to examine them. She had never heard anything so unholy. ‘They cannot help it. “Very well,” she would say, “then I must go. A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. ’ Speeding down the two flights of stairs, Gerald mentally thanked God that it was the practice of himself and Roding—in case of emergency, of which this was a prime example—to stable their horses at the posting inns all the way to London. “Dear husband,” she murmured.
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