She rang again with the same result. I, too, want to understand—to walk with my head in the light. "Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. She opened her eyes. She could visualize the picture she had presented, particularly the battered papier-mâché kitbag at her feet. Fool that I was to marry for beauty! I ought to have remembered that a fair woman and a slashed gown always find some nail in the way. Her fingers clutched the side of the door as though to steady herself. ’ Gerald laughed. He’s riding down the drive.
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