Wood, in his Sunday habiliments and Sunday buckle. . ’ ‘What?’ gasped Alderley in shock. She would become defensive—what she did would be the thing that mattered. But one must disguise oneself. The image in the glass was not clear, for the light was not bright enough to see properly, but the shadows of her riding habit and the hat with its waving plumes framed a countenance that gazed serenely back at her out of long-lashed blue eyes. "Zounds!" cried Kneebone, furiously. ’ ‘I also said, if you remember, that I could not promise not to do so. She dropped on her knees by his side, and gently unbuttoned his waistcoat.
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