’ A little sigh escaped her. His diminutive hand flew out from behind his back like a wounded bird. ‘How could you possibly know it?’ ‘I know it,’ Lucilla told him frostily, ‘because Dorothée told me that Madame Valade went off with Gerald positively purring in her ear—which is a thing he never does—and came back with him looking like the cat after cream. She whispered, “Another car is coming,” as lights approached their car. ‘The old man who lives here, idiot. This formality irked her: she wanted to play a little, romp. When he had finished he took up the wine list and ordered a bottle of dry champagne.
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