Besides these there was a warm gooseberry-tart, and a cold pigeon pie—the latter capacious enough, even allowing for its due complement of steak, to contain the whole produce of a dovecot; a couple of lobsters and the best part of a salmon swimming in a sea of vinegar, and shaded by a forest of fennel. There was no rush. If he had got off, they might have hanged me, and welcome. She did not want to seem to shrink from conversation, but all sorts of odd questions were running through her mind. ’ ‘Oh, that tragic pair,’ uttered her ladyship in saddened tones.
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