Wood the best of wives. White is proud of her drawing-room evenings. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. It would be downright cruel to disillusion her. ‘En tout cas, it is not reasonable that I could be at all in love with him. ’ So pat, thought Gerald. She looked at him confusedly, his black hair glinting under the dim lights. To-morrow I shall come and talk to you again—of other things. Crossing several fields, newly mown, or filled with lines of tedded hay, she arrived, not without great exertion, at the summit of a hill.
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