She was trying to bring her problems to a head, and her mind insisted upon being even more discursive and atmospheric than usual. She stopped abruptly at the sound of his voice, and lost the thread of what she was saying. Listen, you. "I could almost forgive the wretch the injury he did me in depriving me of my poor dear wife—No, not quite that," he added, a little confused. Gerald’s thoughts raced as he reached out supporting hands and murmured meaningless phrases to soothe. Be honest, and you will be happy. He was looking pale and ill. He held her eyes. " "The pianist?" "Yes.
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