’ Gerald infused sympathy into his voice, and deliberately addressed himself to Madame. I am used, you understand, to guard my secret. He was all alone, like herself. She loved to be there, taking part in it all, breathing it, being it. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams. Then she looked up the sweep of pine-trees to the towering sunlit cliffs and the high heaven above and then back to his face. ’ Gerald came into the room as he spoke, his eyes on the stormclouds rapidly gathering in Melusine’s face. He was ill at ease, though he would not have confessed his disquietude even to himself. I felt somehow I’d hurt you. .
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