E. ’ ‘Lucky indeed,’ answered Gerald, glancing at the pair again. She looked in the glass over and over as she checked for lint and makeup streaks. The gallant woollen-draper was now in his thirty-sixth year. Waving a white flag, naturally. “Not too bad. It was Annabel who spoke. These were his mistresses, Poll Maggot and Edgeworth Bess. Just what in the world was that about? Before he could hazard a guess, Lucy looked back at him. At a little after five, on that day, four horses dashed round the corner of the Old Bailey, and drew up before the door of the Lodge.
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