“Why shouldn’t one face the facts of one’s self?” She stood up. Perhaps that other boy who visited you backstage at the concert. He sat with folded arms and knitted brows, thinking intently. Gerald took Madame’s hand and kissed the fingers with a little more warmth than punctilio demanded. Practically. Detached, it was not impossible that she would be forced to leave the dining room because of invading tears. Wood did think of it, and groaned aloud. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. "Take my life, if you're so disposed. ‘Couldn’t reconcile it with my dooty to leave you here—’ A thought made Melusine stop dead, turning to him. She elected to go to prison.
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