‘Precisely,’ agreed Gerald. ” She muttered some unlady-like comment upon herself under her breath and engaged in secret additions. She traveled through back yards and quiet side streets on her way home, careful to avoid the main thoroughfares, fraught as they were with people in cars who would recognize her person or notice her dress. ‘Well, I can see you won’t let it alone, so what do you propose to do about the wench?’ ‘I’ll die before I let it alone,’ Gerald vowed. "When in France, I heard from the Marshal that his brother had perished in London on the night of the Great Storm. She decided to go on, after a momentary halt.
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