Chapter XX ANNA’S SURRENDER “This is indeed a gala night,” said Ennison, raising his glass, and watching for a moment the golden bubbles. She listened with growing apprehension to the tale that Gerald told, omitting any mention of pistols and daggers, and at the end delivered herself of various expletives highly unsuited to a lady of her advanced years. We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. She’s naïve, and yet uncannily shrewd at times, and you daren’t rely on anything she says. She pulled her chair with a mild creak and marched towards the stair. You have neither reason nor logic. Jack dropped the knife, and walked sullenly aside. “But if you knew anything of that—” “I did. He took about five minutes. ‘Too late by the time I realised to what a dunderhead I’d pledged my friendship. “Lord!” she said. It was Celeste’s idea. When Mrs. " "Odd's me! do you think so?" cried the host of the Trumpeter. .
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