Accepting his glass from the butler, Gerald glanced at Mrs Sindlesham and saw a dimple peep out. At the back of her mind, dim and yet disconcerting, was the perception that she herself did not know what she wanted. Only one thing emerged with any reasonable clarity in her mind at once, and that was that unless she was saved from drowning by an unmarried man, in which case the ceremony is unavoidable, or totally destitute of under-clothing, and so driven to get a trousseau, in which hardship a trousseau would certainly be “ripping,” marriage was an experience to be strenuously evaded. Say that I will call again or let him know my address in London. Nothing like the direct approach, she thought.
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