‘All these soldiers,’ she complained, adding with a sweep of one arm at the major’s dress, ‘all of them in red as you. ’ Lady Bicknacre, resplendent in purple satin, and basking in her triumphantly full rooms—for it was obvious that her patronage of the refugees had set a quickly to be followed fashion—was all sorrow and sympathy when Gerald spoke of them. He reached for her and she stroked his head soothingly as his mother had done a few times when he had suffered bad fevers. " "No," cried the lady, "this room—I recollect—it has a back window. “I wish that I could forget it,” he said.
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