Gerald noted the lady’s eyes brighten as she caught sight of him making his way through the throng towards her. “Tell me,” he said; “speak to me. . ” “Why not?” She turned on him. She would not sleep for fear of losing a moment of that sense of his proximity. The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple. Making her couch upon a heap of hay, she sank at once into a deep and refreshing slumber. ‘Is he meeting you here then, my dear?’ ‘He had better,’ said Lucilla. He fell back upon the pillows with a little moan, clutching the slim white fingers fiercely. 82 She was putting a manuscript away, gingerly locking its heavy tooled cover, but it was a huge, awkward tome. " "As an honest Chinaman?"—taking out the offensiveness of the query by smiling.
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