“TROUSERS!” she whispered. They crossed the Channel in sunshine and a breeze that just ruffled the sea to glittering scales of silver. Wood, sinking into a chair, and fanning herself violently,—"what a fluster you have put me into with your violence, to be sure! And at the very time, too, when you know I'm expecting a visit from Mr. Perhaps because I don’t know. ‘He can’t be Valade, that’s certain,’ mused Gerald, unheeding. After all, it was what she had been praying for—and Annabel could not have known her address.
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