’ ‘Also madame his wife—’ Charvill’s gorge rose. The man had favoured him with a brief nod, but the girl had gone so far as to offer a tiny smile, and a look under her lashes with which not even Gerald, for all his scant interest in female society, could fail to be familiar. And she was about as capable of intelligent argument as a runaway steam-roller. She pulled his shirt from its tucked belted state and snaked her hands around his waist. But she was not there. “If I had three hands,” she said, with a faint smile, “I would give one to each of you.
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