Gerald’s thoughts raced as he reached out supporting hands and murmured meaningless phrases to soothe. ‘It is you who is the fool,’ she threw at him, whipping round again. His invalid wife and her money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs. ’ She tried to shake his hands off her wrists, but Gerald held them fast and tutted at her. I’m in a mess—a nasty mess! a filthy mess! Oh, no end of a mess! “Do you hear, Ann Veronica?—you’re in a nasty, filthy, unforgivable mess! “Haven’t I just made a silly mess of things? “Forty pounds! I haven’t got twenty!” She got up, stamped with her foot, and then, suddenly remembering the lodger below, sat down and wrenched off her boots. “I’ve been thinking of you all night,” she answered. The G.
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