‘What are you going to do now, Gerald?’ He sipped his wine and shrugged. “My wife. Wood, I desire you'll put on your best things, and join us as soon as possible. He daren't quarrel with me: and if he does, let him look to himself. Perhaps Ferringhall has pensioned her off. \"Some of them don't smell so good. My mind is full of ideas and images that I have been cherishing and accumulating—dreams of travelling side by side, of lunching quietly together in some jolly restaurant, of moonlight and music and all that side of life, of seeing you dressed like a queen and shining in some brilliant throng—mine; of your looking at flowers in some old-world garden, our garden—there are splendid places to be got down in Surrey, and a little runabout motor is quite within my means. Of course Nicholas was bound to give her a French name. And, incidentally, check on that unfortunate young fellow Kimble. ‘Lord,’ Gerald uttered, his inexplicable annoyance evaporating.
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