Chapter Two ‘Our French friends are beginning to form quite a little coterie,’ remarked Gerald, covertly studying the group gathered in an alcove at the other side of Lady Bicknacre’s ballroom. Contests were held every year, the type of which depended on her caprice. On some insane score she fancied she had to state her case in verse. We'll celebrate that check, and let the rest of the world go hang. Her cheeks flushed a dull red. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. . ‘We may have to,’ Gerald answered thoughtfully, staring at the window to one side. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life.
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