Wood. The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end. You're the first widow I ever heard of who could withstand that lure. Now, will you do me the honour of lunching with me, Miss Pellissier?” Anna hesitated. ‘Lord in heaven, could it be so?’ ‘Don’t look at me,’ exploded Hilary. “I believe,” he said slowly, “that I shall do best to throw myself upon your consideration and tell you the truth. ‘Never mind that now. ‘Except Captain Roding,’ agreed the old lady, nodding at the butler.
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