Gerald at once lowered his voice to that intimate level again, and leaned towards her. He came in with his hands in his trousers pockets and a general air of depression in his bearing. The fireplace was at the other end, with the sheeted shapes of two sofas either side. So he liked to go by a different train. Sheppard had been interred. Under the plumed hat, her eye kindled. Shrinking involuntarily back into the farthest corner of the seat, Jack buried his face in his hands. She was pleased and a little flattered by his interest and sympathy. She was no longer a confederate in that. Her little white hand stole across the table.
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