She was trying to adjust the wimple, dragging at it and fighting with her loosened hair. . "What's the matter?" demanded Jonathan, harshly. The cultivated indifference, which was part of the armour of his little world fell away from him. The red glare fell upon the slimy brick-work, and tinged the inky waters below. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. She had prepared herself to meet violent protest, a recurrence of that burning glance. “I believe that you are right,” he said softly. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. ” “Surely,” he protested, “the change is all in favour of your own inclinations. But the morning brought courage again, and those first intimations of horror vanished completely from her mind.
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