" "I imagine I've been in a kind of trance. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. ‘This is altogether insupportable!’ She dug a hand into the recesses of the petticoat of her riding habit and a moment later Gerald found himself once again confronting the barrel of her overlarge and tarnished pistol. At once. "Perhaps that would have been best. ” Lucy spoke up, “We used to call that ‘playing the coquette’.
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