A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter. “What is the good of pretending?” she said. ” He said. “No, Lucy, because Satan does not exist. You know what? I’m going to make a surprise announcement at the concert tonight, but I wanted to give you the heads up. . She listened with growing apprehension to the tale that Gerald told, omitting any mention of pistols and daggers, and at the end delivered herself of various expletives highly unsuited to a lady of her advanced years. Her new husband had paid for a cadre of escorts back to Mantua. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. She answered slowly. His hand rested heavily and cruelly upon Ruth's shoulder. But that was soon put right, and she walked out into London with a peculiar exaltation of mind, an exaltation that partook of panic and defiance, but was chiefly a sense of vast unexampled release.
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