’ ‘Gad, there is someone there,’ exclaimed Hilary beside him, shading his eyes with one hand. . It was an odd room, used principally for the reception of guests and visiting dignitaries, packed from end to end with ill-assorted sofas and padded chairs. Manning, Lady Palsworthy’s nephew, a tall young man of seven-and-thirty with a handsome, thoughtful, impassive face, a full black mustache, and a certain heavy luxuriousness of gesture. “David,” she said, “you are not a coward, are you?” “I do not know,” he muttered.
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