‘Oh, Lord,’ muttered Gerald, going instantly to her aid. Picked up the photograph, looked at it, handed it back, and never batted an eye! The act was as clear as daylight, but the motive was as profoundly mysterious as the race itself. ’ ‘Nonsense, it’ll give Pottiswick something genuine to complain about,’ said Gerald cheerfully, moving to the edge of the trees. She had not made friends with any; so they still eyed her askance. To—to find myself. ‘A word, if you please, my friend. That is not reasonable. CHAPTER XII. That is good. But he only went home again to Paddington. .
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