He was leaning against a window frame, his hat in his hand. But some day she would find a place to love: there would be rosy apples on the boughs, and there would be flurries of snow blowing into her face. She appeared not to have realised the implications of her outburst, but clung a little to Gerald’s hands which had taken hers in a comforting clasp. Every now and then her general presence became radiantly dazzling in his eyes; she would appear in the street coming toward him, a surprise, so fine and smiling and welcoming was she, so expanded and illuminated and living, in contrast with his mere expectation.
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