I can’t explain—” They regarded one another, each blinded to the other. “I propose,” Sir John said, “that we pay for our dinner—which we haven’t had— tip the garçon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz. Probably his first serious bout with John Barleycorn. Prudence attacked her chicken wing. ‘Anyhow, never mind that now. ‘And I am delighted to see that you are ready to admit that the Charvills—or rather the Valades—are indeed your affair. When her shock and the headache subsided, and she remembered that she had been reading the letter when Gosse had accosted her, she looked for it in vain. He hated horizons. A stiff, formally-cut coat of cinnamon-coloured cloth, with rows of plate buttons, each of the size of a crown piece, on the sleeves, pockets, and skirts, reached the middle of his legs; and his costume was completed by the silver-hilted sword at his side, and the laced hat under his left arm.
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