But as she got out of the train at Morningside Park Station she had a shock. You’re splendid stuff, you know, but you’ve got nothing ready to sell. The wine bubbled and seethed; and the exquisite bouquet of oranges permeated the room. He carried a small bag. Which was not to say that ladies were not interested in him. For the first time he seemed to wonder what it might be that she had to confess. "What's that?" asked Wild. ” “Of course,” his friend answered. Their journey had made them indolent, the afternoon was warm, and it seemed impossible to breathe a sweeter air. Here you only waste your time. ‘But how did she meet such a person in a convent?’ ‘He was wounded and came there for sanctuary,’ Gerald explained, adding almost through his teeth. She had slapped him away with her free hand and the finger was released suddenly, sending her careening to the floor. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility.
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