I'm no mollycoddle. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. The future? He dared not speculate upon that. I will arise and go to my father, and will say unto him— “I suppose pride and self-assertion are sin? Sinned against heaven—Yes, I have sinned against heaven and before thee. . . ” The change in Lady Ferringhall’s manner was subtle but unmistakable. “You’re kidding, right?” “Not kidding at all. ‘Flirting, Gerald? A new come-out for you.
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