He seemed to have expected them. ‘Lord,’ Gerald uttered, his inexplicable annoyance evaporating. A stiff, formally-cut coat of cinnamon-coloured cloth, with rows of plate buttons, each of the size of a crown piece, on the sleeves, pockets, and skirts, reached the middle of his legs; and his costume was completed by the silver-hilted sword at his side, and the laced hat under his left arm. His anger gave way to grim humour and he thrust towards them, leaning heavily on his cane. He said daring things with a grace which made them irresistible, his eyes flashed back upon her some eloquent but silent appreciation of the change in her manner towards him. It makes wonderful sentences that you can repeat in the City and are good enough for Punch.
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