‘Lord,’ Gerald uttered, his inexplicable annoyance evaporating. She gave her a wink when John had turned to ask Mark if Lucy could ride home with them. Mr. ’ Obediently, Gerald rose and walked to the other end of the parlour. She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. He waited for an instant, wasting an encouraging smile in the imperfect light, and then shut the doors of the van, leaving the women in darkness.
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