“So you still think of me as husband, even though we have long since tired of each other. You can pay me when we return. 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. ‘Nothing of the sort,’ argued Gerald. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now. ‘Did she call you that?’ asked Lucilla, amused. It was the end, she told herself, fiercely. “Well?” he asked her tersely. " CHAPTER XIII.
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