As she hoisted her skirts near her waist, she thought ruefully of the last time she had worn such an elaborate gown, sometime near 1910 when petticoats were still considered hip everyday garb. It would surely be only common politeness to drop her a hint—a fellow countrywoman too. For was not Gerald a gentleman? An Englishman, whose services any female—excluding her own self so idiote— would be very happy to have. Why? He could preach the Word and deny Love!—tame the savage heart, succour broken white men!—pray with his face strained with religious fervour! The idea made her dizzy because it was so inexplicable. I have never in my life been so much puzzled by any one as by your sister. But although startled and clearly afraid, there was no self-consciousness in her gaze and she was standing her ground. Read that letter, Thames—my lord marquis, I mean. Norris says she's dying. He is at present with Mr. Presently he turned to Courtlaw.
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