It was not as bad a wound as she had at first thought, and the blood was only oozing now. ’ ‘Gosse,’ corrected Lucilla. Opposite to her was a sallow-visaged young man, whose small tie seemed like a smudge of obtusively shiny black across the front of a high close-drawn collar. “And what was that dreadful confession you had to make?” he was saying. “John! Welcome! Happy Thanksgiving!” Cathy cried, ushering him deeper into the house. “Oh. ‘Major Alderley, ma’am, and General Lord Charvill.
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