Ann Veronica jumped up to get her the cardtable. For was not Gerald a gentleman? An Englishman, whose services any female—excluding her own self so idiote— would be very happy to have. What you want to do is to imagine every woman a Becky Sharp and every man a Rawdon Crawley. He was safe, out of the beaten track, at last really comparable to the needle in the haystack. But this was not a season in which to be needlessly scrupulous. She felt smaller and more adventurous even than she had expected to feel. "I declare you throw me into an ague. I——” The door was thrown open. But that did not stop Trodger, who had ridden up from Kent for the purpose, from detailing every little inspection and sortie that his men had made in their allotted task of watching Remenham House.
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