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"Where shall I fly?" exclaimed the lady, bewildered with terror. She and Courtlaw drove homewards together. “I’m fine,” she said softly. “Beats me. And then she had been disturbed by the eruption into the room of Major Gerald Alderley and his companion, Captain Hilary Roding. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words.
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