And as I fumbled for it in the wreck of his coat she added——
"But 'twill be his death does he use it the once."
I hesitated, but the look in his eyes impelled me to give it to him.
"Good lad!"
And his fingers closed lovingly on the jeweled trinket, picking at the lid he was wont to click open and shut in moments of perplexity. The tawny eyes flirted toward Moira.
"Take care—maid—good blood—in—her. Family, Robert—breeding—landmarks in—mad world."
"I'll do what I can," I promised, seeing he expected an answer.
"Might do—worse—or more," he replied with the shadow of a smile. "Pew's knife—kept you—being—duke—Moira——"
A pause whilst Moira wiped his mouth.
"A mad world," he repeated. "What will—Prince Charles—say?"