Gerald crossed back to the window. ” “Well?” “Lunch! I am hungry—tragically hungry. I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. The room was papered with green, large-patterned paper that was at worst a trifle dingy, and the arm-chair and the seats of the other chairs were covered with the unusual brightness of a large-patterned chintz, which also supplied the window-curtain. Tears sprang to her eyes. But, it can't be helped. At the bottom of her heart she was not a bit afraid of Ramage. John knew everybody, it seemed. At last his voice came to release her tension. A chill rain thrummed against the sides of John’s car, having slowed from deluge to steady patter, the snow was 158 dissolved where it lay.
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