It has been only the sort of nonsense which passes lightly enough between half the men and women in London. It was an overcast day, albeit not foggy, and the electric light shades glowed warmly, and an Italian waiter with insufficient English took Ramage’s orders, and waited with an appearance of affection. ‘Would it so? What sort of a girl is she, then?’ ‘She’s a consummate devil,’ Gerald declared roundly. Martin scrutinized Lucy more closely, but Lucy could tell that Michelle’s credibility had been damaged as her stifled sobs were heard upstairs. Chapter XXII AN OLD FOOL Lady Ferringhall made room for him on the sofa by her side. “What do you mean?” she asked.
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