The doors of several of the wards were thrown open for these parties, and as Jack passed, he could not help glancing at the wretched inmates. Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. If the young ladies were dowerless, which seemed likely, their attire at least—so Lucilla assured him in a whisper—was of the first stare. She found it rather funny that he always wore the shirt fastidiously tucked in and never wore the ensemble without a stiff brown leather belt. Trenchard glanced at the document. ‘At least I couldn’t say for sure.
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