“We will see that he doesn’t follow you. She pointed. Perhaps Gerald was not as clothheaded as he had thought. She traveled through back yards and quiet side streets on her way home, careful to avoid the main thoroughfares, fraught as they were with people in cars who would recognize her person or notice her dress. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. She felt that perhaps, in her desire to play an adequate part in the conversation, she had talked rather more freely than she ought to have done, and given him a wrong impression of herself. By the time he had reached the summit of this hill, he had lost all trace of them; and the ardour of the chase having in some measure subsided, he began to reproach himself for his folly, in having wandered—as he conceived—so far out of his course. It must have cut him. “Like a stab. For a time she could scarcely believe he was gone. Not us.
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