She had left for ever the cage, the galling leash: she was free. ‘Will you stop hedging? I’m hanged if I go on with this ridiculous cat and mouse game. And the fact that it was dressed in riding gear had fooled her into thinking it was her own image. Without whisky," went on McClintock, "your irritability is beyond tolerance. " "Ha!" ejaculated Trenchard. A sound sleeper, she was not roused by the creaky openings and closings of drawers as Lucy packed a single duffle bag with underwear and soap that was pilfered from a multipack of Zest in the Beck’s downstairs bathroom.
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