They had not so far been of much personal interest to Gerald, but tonight was different. Figg?" said Jack, peevishly. “Do you know,” she said, “that every one is remarking how ill you look. “A woman wants a proper alliance with a man, a man who is better stuff than herself. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. Gosse! Dieu du ciel, but how did he get into the convent? She had perforce to obey his command, for speech was impossible. We struggle against it at first, but in the end we have to submit. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. Women are hypocrites to the last—true only to themselves. . “How could it not have hurt?” His analytical side started putting in overtime.
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