She threw out a hand to stop herself from cannoning into them and, losing balance, tripped over her own petticoats and fell to the carpeted floor, her hat falling off as she did so. . She had done forever with the Age of Chivalry, and her own base adaptations of its traditions to the compromising life. ‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. “If I sit here,” he said, standing up before her abruptly, “I shall have to shout. There followed a silence which endured several minutes; or, rather a tableau.
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