“I’m really very sorry. CHAPTER XVII. " "I will be there," answered Trenchard, gloomily. It’s a tremendous blow, of course—but it doesn’t kill me. The train, meantime, had passed Marylebone Lane, when it again paused for a moment, at Jack's request, near the door of a public-house called the City of Oxford. A door in this house opened upon the yard. Like the Valades, I imagine. ’ ‘That I do not doubt,’ Gerald muttered drily, but added in a tone of intense satisfaction, ‘Then this husband is still in France? Excellent. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms.
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