Her anger died and she eyed him. I think not, Annabel. He carried a cane and a silk hat with a mourning-band in one gray-gloved hand; his frock-coat and trousers were admirable; his handsome face, his black mustache, his prominent brow conveyed an eager solicitude. She had never seen her sitting on tables nor heard her discussing theology, and had failed to observe that the graceful figure was a natural one and not due to ably chosen stays. For an instant, Gerald wished the rest of the world away that he might go to her and administer appropriate comfort. ‘It will suit me very well that you go away, because you are a person without sense and I do not wish to talk to you.
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