She asked no further questions for the moment. Gerald, whose French was adequate from his military service abroad, was able to respond suitably to such remarks as the ladies addressed to him, but was less exercised by their fashionable dress than their decidedly careworn appearance. Everybody looked askance at everybody else. Not a star could be discerned, but, in their stead, streaks of lurid radiance, whence proceeding it was impossible to determine, shot ever and anon athwart the dusky vault, and added to the ominous and threatening appearance of the night. In fact, Gerald had given order to the coachman to drive out of Golden Square and then stop around the corner. ‘One of they Frenchies, that’s what I say—if it ain’t a ghost. She entered quietly and padded up to her shared bedroom. My reception at West Kensington you know of.
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