“His love-making,” she remarked, “struck me as unconvincing. ‘I am not a murderer. ‘You can if you like. And it is your own fault that your husband dallies with me. The street was deserted, no pedestrian school-goers walked immediately in front or behind them. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. Gerald took Madame’s hand and kissed the fingers with a little more warmth than punctilio demanded. This was a much more serious task than he anticipated.
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