He met her eyes with his fiery black gaze. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. The galleries adjoining it were crowded with spectators,—so was the roof of a large tavern, then the only house standing at the end of the Edgeware Road,—so were the trees,—the walls of Hyde Park,—a neighbouring barn, a shed,—in short, every available position. She drifted back into the welcoming arms of sleep, feeling herself surrounded in silk. She had just managed to reach it, grabbing for the handle, when the enemy’s cracked command halted her. “After all, it’s our honeymoon. Ennison roused himself with an effort, took a long drink from his whisky and soda, and lit a cigarette. So the charge was dismissed.
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