She wanted his attention, but so did everyone else. Her back had stiffened, and her hazel eyes looked steadfastly ahead. They’re just all men, and no one is safe from scandal. She ought to have leapt back on guard. But De Maupassant—sheer off! Stick to Dickens and Thackeray and Hugo. I mean I’m not a good specimen of a woman. My name is Ferringhall—Sir John Ferringhall. “To the best of my belief, I have not a single English acquaintance in the city. One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing. He must be tied behind the carriage. She never calls herself ‘Alcide. I thought you understood.
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