His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. The old-fashioned dress, with its series of ruffles and printed flowers, ballooned treacherously, revealing her well-turned leg in silk stockings, as it snapped against her body as a mould. Vorsack would staunchly disapprove of his attire, said nothing anyway. She had a warm, fun-loving personality, and an unflattering disrespect for her future husband’s authority. ’ He held out his hand to help the girl descend. ’ ‘What young lady?’ demanded a voice from the back of the hall. . She remained on guard.
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