“A new admirer, Annabel? But what has that to do with your going to England?” “Everything! He is Sir John Ferringhall—very stupid, very respectable, very egotistical. Could she go through with it? She must. Into this new world, vivid with colour, came Spurlock, receptively. It was most amusing. It was Blueskin. From your pocket there. Lucy followed. It consisted of a full-dress coat of brown flowered velvet, laced with silver; a waistcoat of white satin, likewise richly embroidered; shoes with red heels, and large diamond buckles; pearlcoloured silk stockings with gold clocks; a muslin cravat, or steen-kirk, as it was termed, edged with the fine point lace; ruffles of the same material, and so ample as almost to hide the tips of his fingers; and a silver-hilted sword. But be very careful not to let him know. All the fury had left her, swamped by an inexplicable flood of warmth.
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