She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. It was his belief that the French had enough troubles of their own in these difficult times without bothering to nose out British business. ” He said to her with as much casualness as he could muster. What does it matter? It is here, and it is here to stay. ” She laughed at him easily and mirthfully. “I repeat, gentlemen,” he said, in an ominously low tone, “what of it?” Drummond shrugged his shoulders.
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