Ann Veronica found herself in a little stirring crowd of excited women, whispering and tittering and speaking in undertones. All about her, hither and yon, lay the enticing Unknown. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. Lucy wore it every day from then on. She read for half an hour, then closed the book because Spurlock appeared to have fallen asleep. “Why not?” Lady Lescelles answered. She was rash and ignorant, absolutely inexperienced.
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