Before the Monroes I was placed with a single woman, Leslie Cavendish. He seemed safe from the sickness, having been surrounded by the dying, he had witnessed the carnage up close and yet his health still prevailed. ” “What’s our lot?” asked her sister. Gerald tried it. She fluttered her eyelashes, and adopted the soulful tone that served her well at times. He had barely settled at his desk in his library, when he was disturbed by two morning callers. Well, they’d got to the pheasants, and in a little while he would smoke. Here was not the individual against whom she had been warned. Sadly, the Christmas break came to an end. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. Mrs. C. ’ Gerald laughed and clapped him on the back.
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