‘Never trust a gun in female hands,’ grumbled Hilary, dropping the nun’s habit and backing to join his friend. “—and your aunt—” For a time he searched for the mot juste. Somebody ought to talk to him, warn him. “You’ll get me to allude to it, but you’d have to torture me to admit it. David left this afternoon. The folds of a thick muslin neckcloth in some degree protected him, but the gash was desperate. “But a boy—a boy goes out into the world and presently stands on his own feet. Such revelations she hoped would be considered out of place and inappropriate. Then she raised the glass nearer to her lips. That was life.
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