You and I. . ’ ‘Ah, but there’s the little matter of your presence here,’ said Gerald on a note of apology. A young lad—Roding took him for a footman, or a groom by the neat black garb—was halted some paces away from Valade, his hat in his hand as he made pretence of fanning himself. I loitered in the shop as you chatted with the butcher’s girl. She went on from street to street, and all the glory of London had departed. Little things, almost impalpable, had happened to justify that doubt; something in his manner had belied his words. He turned the wheel carefully as he touched her neck with the other, threading her soft curls in between his slim fingers. Courtlaw might have been able to give me an idea where to stop.
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