‘Oh, Lord,’ muttered Gerald, going instantly to her aid. She covered herself with her arms. If he died, here in this hotel, who would care? Or if she died, who would care? A queer desire blossomed in her heart: to go to him, urge him to see the folly of trying to forget. “It is positively no use, Anna,” she declared, appealingly. ” “Why?” she asked. He drifted in and out of consciousness. There is a place—This isn’t the place. Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. I believe that her ladyship is going to Carey House, and on to the Marquis of Waterford’s ball,” he added, hastily consulting a diary on the hall table. She saw marks in the dirt where he had been pacing.
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