the milliner declared, “worn flat about a little yeoman’s hat. And roses are quite out—oh dear me, yes. I did see a sprig of laurel on a pleasant lilac bonnet in the Park last Saturday—St. James’s I mean, of course, where all the quality walk. But roses …” She gave a dismissive snort. “They just ...
He drove a neat pair of Welsh cobs, their glossy chestnut haunches gleaming in the late afternoon sun. ‘They are handsome,’ commented Jarrett idly. ‘Aye, aesthetically pleasing at a stand but their motion as a pair is execrable. It is my own fault. I’m such a shallow fellow – ever drawn by outwar...