207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. I won’t tolerate any foreign tongue in this house, least of all that confounded French. “If one was free,” she said, “one could go to him. Fortescue, with a bow. ‘That’s better,’ said Gerald, and let her go. A deadly sickness came over her, the room seemed spinning round. She laughed softly, and leaned across the table. He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether. ’ ‘Because I like you, of course,’ Gerald said promptly. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time.
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