It takes too many years to climb even a step in the social ladder. Wood caught hold of Jack's leg, and dragged him off the bench. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. Besides, Gerald would not for the world have passed up the chance of a little excitement. A little smothered cry broke from her lips—the curtains were thrown aside and a man stepped out. Ann Veronica’s experiences of men had been among more stable types—Teddy, who was always absurd; her father, who was always authoritative and sentimental; Manning, who was always Manning. “One is always playing the surgeon, one kills always the thing one loves best.
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