She guessed Jack was having trouble finding the right piece of carving. She went down, flushed and light-hearted, to the Widgetts’ after lunch to make some final arrangements and then, as soon as her aunt had retired to lie down for her usual digestive hour, took the risk of the servants having the enterprise to report her proceedings and carried her bag and hold-all to the garden gate, whence Teddy, in a state of ecstatic service, bore them to the railway station. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. Michelle shrugged her off. Of a certainty, she also was imbecile. ’ ‘Will you go back there?’ asked Gerald.
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