’ ‘No, perhaps not,’ Gerald agreed with a smile. She did not learn the kind of looks she had been bestowing upon him at a convent. His face was wreathed in smiles, his beringed hand was cordially outstretched. His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples. 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. She felt draggled and insulted beyond redemption.
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