" "Norris!" gasped Lady Trafford, trembling violently. You’re a little late, you must remember, and we are punctual people here. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. "Keep off, you accursed jade!" roared Jonathan, "—off, I say, or—" And he struck her a violent blow with his clenched hand. Was the situation so desperate that he could not pack his best things? She had packed lightly, not wanting to weigh down the carriage they would travel in. Now you haven’t the ghost of one—not if you play the game fair.
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