‘You are, I think, a gentleman, no?’ Gerald bowed. Loved his memory still, for all he knew. I’m not half smart enough for the West End. Certain simple purposes emerged from the disingenuous muddle of her feelings and desires. She carried herself well, whereas her brother slouched, and there was a certain aristocratic dignity about her that she had acquired through her long engagement to a curate of family, a scion of the Wiltshire Edmondshaws. It might prove rewarding. “So your father brought you here to live in the States?” John asked. The period of repression was over. No breakfast, he’s had no dinner, hardly a mouthful of soup— since yesterday at tea.
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