‘Nothing of the sort,’ argued Gerald. In his youth he must have been a remarkably handsome man, for he is still handsome. I will do all this not because I love you, but—because you are Anna’s sister. didn’t have to. ‘Where was I? Oh yes. I ——” He stopped short. Luck. The London backgrounds, in Bloomsbury and Marylebone, against which these people went to and fro, took on, by reason of their gray facades, their implacably respectable windows and window-blinds, their reiterated unmeaning iron railings, a stronger and stronger suggestion of the flavor of her father at his most obdurate phase, and of all that she felt herself fighting against.
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