’ The listening soldiers began to snigger behind their hands. I made a wrong choice, it seems—but my voice remains. ” Lady Ferringhall sat with half closed eyes and clenched teeth. The joy that filled her veins with throbbing fire urged her to rise and go swinging and whirling and dipping. The smell that emanated from the opening was abominable. For a time her efforts to achieve a comprehensive concentration were dispersed by the passage of the village street of Caddington, the passing of a goggled car-load of motorists, and the struggles of a stable lad mounted on one recalcitrant horse and leading another.
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