“I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. "You read it, Ruth. Wood turned over to obtain a more comfortable position. Even now he was not at all sure that she was not playing with him. There was a bare chance that he had been mistaken. She laughed nervously, but kept her eyes averted. There's another lad at the gate waiting for him—the same who was here just now, that Sir Rowland was speaking of, who fastened up the jewelcase for her ladyship. “Guess who I’m going out with?” Michelle asked her one day at lunch.
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