Gerald looked at it, then at her face. It was not due to shyness: it was the inherent instinct of the Woman, a protective fear that she must retain some elements of mystery in order to hold the interest of the male. The room was reeling, or was it that she was going to faint? She recovered herself with a supreme effort. She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her. But that's an infirmity shared by a great many sounder heads than mine. I followed you home on the train. He had the appearance of a man who has known no rest for many nights.
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