" "I'm afraid I don't understand. She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. ’ She counted off on her fingers. Spurling, for so was she named, had a warm nut-brown complexion, almost as dark as a Creole; and a moustache on her upper lip, that would have done no discredit to the oldest dragoon in the King's service. Would you like to borrow some of my clothes? I think we're about the same size. ’ ‘Indeed?’ Gerald said politely. The autumn rain had made every surface tacky, the wet seats of painted red picnic tables were avoided. ’ He had abandoned the “sir”, Gerald noted, realising that the footman’s respect for him had dropped sharply. "Where is he?" asked Jonathan.
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