His gaze drawn, Gerald watched him dip to pick up a crushed square of white linen and a starched object that resembled a helmet. Her voice was soft and singularly musical; but from time to time she uttered old-fashioned words which forced him to grope mentally. Yet she never once thought of changing it. Wood, who had recovered her good humour, quitted the room she bestowed a hearty embrace on Thames, and she told him laughingly, that she would "defer all she had to propose to him until to-morrow. “You’re wanted for questioning, miss. “This is all madness,” she declared wearily.
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