While Lady Bicknacre had never trusted Valade. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. But when Ruth's hand fell gently upon his bony head, he knew that no one in this house would ever offer him a kick. At first she thought he was endeavouring to rid himself of the fleas, but after a time she came to understand that the muck had healing qualities and soothed the burning scratches made by his claws. ’ ‘Yes, that rather leapt to the eye,’ Gerald said, and the faint smile sent a lick of warmth down inside her.
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