‘How in God’s name did the wretched fellow get in then?’ ‘Dug a tunnel?’ suggested Gerald, halting next to a pair of French windows at the front. ‘I take it that you like this great-niece of mine?’ ‘One cannot help but do so. ’ Mrs Ibstock’s lips tightened and she looked away a moment. ‘Precisely,’ agreed Gerald. “I never saw Courtlaw with her—never heard her speak of him. Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present some irresistible project.
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