But perhaps he was right not to tell you the truth. ‘But if there is one, how in the world did this mystery lady of yours know of it?’ ‘That, Lucy, is precisely the point that has been exercising my mind,’ Gerald said, turning his eyes once more to the group of French exiles in the alcove. Now that she was his, to make or mar, she presented an extraordinary fascination. There are times when you make me feel a little thing at your feet—a young, silly, protected thing. . But one was clearly the goddess among them, her face hidden, her body seeming to call out to me to possess it at once. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. He did not care whether the stories were accepted or not. The teacher turned towards the blackboard to inscribe the names of Capulet and Montague. ” “I will have your reason for this,” he said. ” 152 < 19 > THE WINDS OF NOVEMBER The Thanksgiving season brought a fierce wind that relentlessly whipped around the brick corners of the school.
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