CHAPTER I. Then she looked up the sweep of pine-trees to the towering sunlit cliffs and the high heaven above and then back to his face. Was not Gerald altogether on her side? He was, even though he played games like an imbecile, a person tout à fait sympathique as she had discovered at the outset. As she did so the preparation-room door opened behind her. You make a game with me, imbecile. The overnight nervous strain began to tell; she became inattentive to the work before her, and it did not get on. When I promised to marry you I thought I could; I thought it was a possible arrangement. She went past three keenly observant and ostentatiously preoccupied waiters down the thickcarpeted staircase and out of the Hotel Rococo, that remarkable laboratory of relationships, past a tall porter in blue and crimson, into a cool, clear night. In nearly every speech she heard was the same implication of great and necessary changes in the world—changes to be won by effort and sacrifice indeed, but surely to be won. Her complexion was wan and faded, except where it was tinged by a slight hectic flush, that made the want of colour more palpable; her eyes were large and black, but heavy and lustreless; her cheeks sunken; her frame emaciated; her dark hair thickly scattered with gray. Hell's curses! that after all my precautions I should be thus entrapped. He has always plenty of evidence in reserve.
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