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’ ‘Lord,’ Gerald murmured, awed more by the outspokenness of his hostess than by what she had said. He felt he was human wisdom prudentially interpolated. “And what was that dreadful confession you had to make?” he was saying. “Your success here is absolutely meteoric. But as she got out of the train at Morningside Park Station she had a shock. Cocked hats and buckled swords spoke of rank. He came in with his hands in his trousers pockets and a general air of depression in his bearing. You will agree with me when you have heard what I have to say. She wanted air—and the distraction of having moving and changing things about her. ’ A peal of delighted laughter greeted this threat. I think that I am a little disappointed in you. I MUST. We must wave our hands at the blue hills far away there and go back to London and work. .
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