“I suppose all life is an affair of chances. ’ Gerald smiled. ‘Where the devil have you been?’ ‘Consorting with a nun in the gardens. How will I get an Englishman to wed me if they know that I behave not at all comme il faut?’ ‘Perhaps the Englishman in question will not care,’ suggested Prudence, with a twinkle in her eye for which Melusine was quite unable to account. "Ho, no," replied Jack. Almost at once she had comprehended that she was expected to write down her name and address, which she did, in slanting cobwebby lettering, perhaps a trifle laboriously. A momentary petrifaction, and terror had lent wings to her feet.
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