” She patted his arm and wiped her tears away. Hanging on the wall was a temple censer, bronze, moulded in the shape of a lotus blossom with stem and leaves—deadly as a club. He was continually dramatizing the future, anticipating the singular role he had elected to play. The eyes left him, searching beside the chair for her cane. Gerald raised a questioning eyebrow. Following her lead, he fortified himself with a swallow of the excellent Madeira before responding. Why? If she had put the query to herself, she could not have answered it. “You do not know what such a relation means.
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