One day her mother swept into the bedroom of the family townhouse, sweeping across the floor with a bundle in her arms. A father is in debt, we'll say. I begin to understand Jane Austen and chintz covers and decency and refinement and all the rest of it. She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. “Perhaps, as I’ve only just arrived,” she remarked, “I might be forgiven if I do not change my skirt. A sophisticated woman would have translated the tone as a caress. ’ ‘But you must,’ Gerald said, quite as if he meant it.
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