I'm entirely at your service. " "On no account," rejoined Wood peremptorily. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. The theme was a masquerade. ‘And why not?’ ‘Because,’ Gerald said matter of factly, ‘convent-bred jeune demoiselles do not commonly know how to handle either pistols or daggers. ” He ruminated for a minute. This obstacle, which appeared to preclude the possibility of egress in that quarter, was speedily got rid of.
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