They took their places at a distant table. Crack went the whip, and away floundered the heavy vehicle through the deep ruts of the ill-kept road, or rather lane, (for it was little better,) which, then, led across Southampton Fields. ‘But Gérard—if you mean the fellow Alderley who was making eyes at Yolande—is not here. He reached over and took her hand. It has been a marvellous day—and I am going to England. You were afraid of me, afraid that I should have been shocked, afraid of the scandal. 1. “Sold again,” she remarked.
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