I don’t have to take this shit. Nor can we. Chapter Two ‘Our French friends are beginning to form quite a little coterie,’ remarked Gerald, covertly studying the group gathered in an alcove at the other side of Lady Bicknacre’s ballroom. All was darkness, horror, confusion, ruin. The kindly faced landlady had failed to catch his name, and said he was a tall, handsome gentleman with a great black mustache. Nobody could possibly find him now. Her father intercepted her, and for a moment she and he struggled with their hands upon the latch. She cursed herself for a fool.
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