His hands reached under her skirt. The Jew got in first. His only warning was a gleam of silver in the faint spill of light from the house above. Eh bien, they would see about this. David Courtlaw—Sir John Ferringhall. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative. Marvel, in a tone intended to be consolatory. She said”—Ann Veronica shivered again—“‘I hope it won’t make you uncomfortable, my dear’—like that—‘and whatever you do, do be careful of your hair!’ I think—I judge from her manner—that she thought it was just a little indelicate of us—considering everything; but she tried to be practical and sympathetic and live down to our standards. “Garçon,” he said, “will you ask the gentleman at the next table if he will do me the honour of taking a glass of wine with me.
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