" "No," cried the lady, "this room—I recollect—it has a back window. ‘What are you, a nincompoop? She was Nicholas’s wife, of course. ” “He only heard this afternoon,” Sydney continued. ’ ‘She?’ scoffed Martha. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. Better get a dress. Anything that drew attention to her must be avoided. ‘What do we do now?’ Gerald took a pace towards the girl. She shattered the edifice he was building up of himself as a devoted lover, waiting only his chance to win her from a hopeless and consuming passion. She emerged with a white face and wide-open eyes upon a little, red-lit landing. .
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