‘Desist, you little devil,’ he growled in her ear. “Are you A, B, C, or D?” he asked. ‘But this is altogether a chance of the luckiest. I said to myself at once, ‘Either this is a coincidence or the caper sauce. The fair boy in the audience who had waved was yet another suitor. ‘There’s no controlling you, is there?’ He held up his hands. Lady Palsworthy was the widow of a knight who had won his spurs in the wholesale coal trade, she was of good seventeenth-century attorney blood, a county family, and distantly related to Aunt Mollie’s deceased curate.
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