By instinct. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. “In Paris your sister appeared to me to be a charming student of frivolity. ‘A spitfire, ain’t she, sir?’ Roding ignored this. It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you. When I promised to marry you I thought I could; I thought it was a possible arrangement. As to the picture, I'll keep it myself, though, if you do go I shall need no memorial of you. ’ His face changed, all the humour and tenderness leaving it in an instant. “For instance?” She smiled. “I am sure of it.
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