I wonder——” He turned slowly round. She did this to please him. He rose, steadied himself, then walked out of the dining room. “You are a dear,” she exclaimed affectionately. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. Shamefaced curiosities began to come back into her mind, thinly disguised as literature and art. A lesson learned. None of the things they said and did were altogether new to Ann Veronica, but now she got them massed and alive, instead of by glimpses or in books—alive and articulate and insistent. Good-bye, for the pressent—ha! ha!" And, laughing loudly at his own facetiousness, he quitted the Lodge. ‘Moi, je vais vous tuer!’ ‘I don’t think so,’ Gerald said through his teeth. This laughter released something that had been striving for expression—her own natural buoyancy.
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