“Thank you,” he said, “for letting me back. “Very good,” he said. The atmosphere was 46 strained and deathly quiet at the dining room table. The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night. Gerald sympathised with his friend’s irritation. One side of the face was white with foamy lather and the other ruddy-cheeked and blue-jawed. ’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. “The young women of Jane Austen’s time didn’t get into this sort of scrape! At least—one thinks so. There was also the daunting task of getting dressed.
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