But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. “You’re not interested in politics?” he asked, almost with a note of protest. ‘She means thanks to you, General,’ Gerald translated automatically, forgetful of his old commander’s fiery temper. His hunger satisfied, his spirits began to revive, and with this change of mood all his natural audacity returned. It was the beginning of June. Wood was dressed with more than ordinary care, and in more than ordinary finery. “I went to Anna’s rooms because I felt that I must see her. “Dreadful women, my dear!” said Miss Stanley. “What ought you to do?” He began to produce his knowledge of the world for her benefit, jerkily and allusively, and with a strong, rank flavor of “savoir faire.
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