She slid the dress off, naked underneath. Not one of them but bore the marks of having been engaged in a recent and severe conflict. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. She looked at him curiously. Her eyes were dilated— fixed in a horrified stare at the parting in the curtains which hung before the window. “You were never born,” he declared, “to follow the well worn roads. . ’ Sheer exasperation made Gerald release her as he broke into reluctant laughter. He impetuously grasped a hold of her hand, looking for a callous. ’ If you engage me it must be upon my own merits. The gun flew from his hand, clacking on the floor. Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return. “You were born for great things,” he said huskily. ‘As Madame Valade, you will be an émigré, not a nun. Epithalamy might do.
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