‘Truth is, it’s Gerald who’s put me in the devil’s own temper, ma’am. . "You depart for Lancashire to-morrow. “I don’t mind, of course, your seeing her sometimes, still there are differences— differences in social atmospheres. Her hair was gathered up behind, in a sort of pad, according to the then prevailing mode; and she wore a muslin cap, and pinners with crow-foot edging. What's this?" he added, stooping to pick up a piece of paper lying at his feet—it was Jonathan's memorandum. " "Norris!" gasped Lady Trafford, trembling violently. Something insisted that those two were mysteriously linked—that the woman knew the man was there.
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