Chapter Two ‘Our French friends are beginning to form quite a little coterie,’ remarked Gerald, covertly studying the group gathered in an alcove at the other side of Lady Bicknacre’s ballroom. He saw her eyes pass him and settle on a fleetingly pretty strawberry blond girl and her effeminate father. She wore a black satin dress, a little shiny at the seams, a purposeless bow of white tulle at the back of her neck, and a huge chatelaine. The Supper at Mr. You steered and I rowed stroke. He caressed her tenderly, with no trace of the Sebastian who had previously knocked her off her feet with a slap across the mouth. They had both been unsuccessful. ‘Do you think I could bear to be without you for a moment longer? I am quite jealous of Melusine taking up all your attention. It’s not far from twilight. You must forgive the poet’s license I take.
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