‘How could you possibly know it?’ ‘I know it,’ Lucilla told him frostily, ‘because Dorothée told me that Madame Valade went off with Gerald positively purring in her ear—which is a thing he never does—and came back with him looking like the cat after cream. Drink this!” He poured out a glass of wine with a firm hand, and held it to her lips. All our fraternity are afraid of him; but I laugh at his threats. What sort of proof? There are no papers at Remenham House. But seriously, things are not so bad as you think.
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