For heaven’s sake, give him some Madeira or something, Gerald! Anything to calm him down. He shut his eyes and groped for the wall to steady himself, wondering if this bit of mummery would get over. There is a railroad. No mother would have sent her daughter into the world with such a wardrobe. “Quite alone, sir. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose.
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