” “Dear me,” Anna laughed, “how unfortunate! What ought I to do? Should I be forgiven, do you think, if I were to go and hold that skein of wool for the old lady in the yellow cap?” “Don’t speak of her irreverently,” Brendon said, in an awed whisper. “Oh dear, I’m not dressed. "Well, he won't do that here. ’ ‘Lord,’ Gerald murmured, awed more by the outspokenness of his hostess than by what she had said. Her skin prickled. If only there had not been this single torturing thought—a mere pin-prick, but still curiously persistent. .
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