Gerald watched her perambulations in silence, his heart wrung. Here was one that subtly mocked her. He is coming here to tea. I have nothing, nothing that can possibly be passion for you. I'll wait here. Stanley regarded him through his glasses with something approaching animosity. But I do not need that Gérard attend. He thought, too, of the fretful invalid who lay in the next room to his, whose money had created his business and made his position in the world. There was a strange quality of steel in this pretty creature. At sight of his wan features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled coverlet.
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