‘Would you like me to enquire for your mystery lady, Gerald? I know the Comte and Comtesse de St Erme quite well. She missed them already. Been in the wars with both the major and Capting Roding, I have,’ Trodger informed her loftily. He was snoring stupidly. All this was exciting and entertaining. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. He cocked an eyebrow. “But you yourself,” she exclaimed, glancing into his face, “you too look tired. I think I asked if I could eat lunch with her and Trisha Deere one day and she said there was no room at the table. ‘You’ve cause to be grateful to Gerald, then. However good you were to me, and however happy I was in other ways, I should find this intolerable.
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