’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. The latter gentleman did full justice to the good things before him; but he drank sparingly, and was visibly annoyed by his companion's intemperance. "You poor child!" said Prudence. “Let go!” she gasped at him, a blaze of anger. "Swear that you will do this," she cried. “It is, if anything, a little above the average,” Brendon admitted. "We'll see that," replied Jonathan. She found herself struggling with a storm of tears.
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