Drummond took up a cigarette and lit it. She crushed the letter in her hand. The slack of her ridinghabit and full under-petticoats was gathered into her left hand, and her booted ankles were visible as she held the skirts well out of her way. Without you I should never have recovered either health or reason. ‘She’s little more than a schoolgirl, just out. And, if it had not been for a taste for plotting, which was continually getting him into scrapes, he might have been accounted a respectable member of society. ” He dropped his eye-glass with a clatter. “It was just an hour before teatime,” she remarked.
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