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Without preamble, in a voice of extreme exasperation, he demanded, ‘Now what the devil’s to do? What in God’s name do you mean by sending Gerald such a ridiculous letter? Never read anything half as crazy. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. Eh bien, we shall see. ’ ‘Must we talk of it? I’m trying to forget it. It was wonderful to think this thing had lived, had felt and suffered. “Before I took up the Suffrage,” a firm, flat voice remarked, “I could scarcely walk up-stairs without palpitations.
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