‘I have told you, a whip it is nothing. I have read that authors are very selfish and self-centred. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. ’ ‘Comment?’ she demanded with some heat. Her slender throat was encircled by a black riband, with a small locket attached to it; and upon the top of her head rested a diminutive lace cap. “That doesn’t touch the question I asked you,” she said. Part 4 MY DEAR VEE, he wrote.
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