’ Chapter Ten ‘I am come on a mission of some delicacy, ma’am,’ Gerald said calmly to the old lady. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. ‘Do you tell me that my disreputable son had the infernal insolence to pass you off as that whoring Frenchwoman’s daughter?’ His answer was in their faces. And as he gave back the portfolio to Sir Rowland he contrived, unobserved, to slip the precious document into his sleeve, and from thence into his pocket. “Never. “Thanks, Mister McCloskey. Anna’s face was half turned from him, but her expression, and the tone of her monosyllable puzzled him. She drew it out with shaking fingers. You are too kind. Dizziness overcame him like anesthetic and he slept. My politics in that matter wouldn’t be to give women votes. Wanting his coat, when he must have known that the pockets were empty! But the effort to talk had cost him something. You just married her.
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