She floundered deep. She dropped beside the chair, sat cross-legged, and laughed at the futile jade-coloured wall. She seemed to assume that it must certainly be something she had said. At this juncture, Sir Cecil and his followers appeared at the threshold. He slid out of her. "Poor Jack!" cried Winifred, burying her face in her lover's bosom. ‘Gabbling and muttering in a foreign tongue, that’s what I heard, sir,’ had declared the gap-toothed ancient, when he told them of the initial foray he had made, sneaking around the house in the dark. "But—sapperment!—I wish they hadn't broken my pipe. ’ So saying, she threw a meaning look over her shoulder at Lucilla, much to Gerald’s approval.
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