"There's an old proverb," continued Wood, rising and walking towards the fire, "which says,—'Put another man's child in your bosom, and he'll creep out at your elbow. Are you going to write a novel?” “Not I,” she answered gaily. Had Valade been to see him? Possibly even yesterday when he was followed by some young lad—and the girl, of course. Very dark, like yours, ma’am. The months that followed September spiraled downward. In fact, Gerald had given order to the coachman to drive out of Golden Square and then stop around the corner.
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