It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it. “You are Sir John Ferringhall,” she repeated. ’ ‘Get on, Hilary, do,’ begged Lucilla. I am up to the ears in it all— every moment I can spare. One can't help being jealous, you know, even of an unworthy object. ‘Let go!’ ‘Do you take me for a fool?’ Gerald demanded. He then said that if she would not obey him in this course she should “never darken his doors again,” and was, indeed, frightfully abusive. She had a warm, fun-loving personality, and an unflattering disrespect for her future husband’s authority.
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