It would put the whole adventure on a broader and better footing; it seemed, indeed, almost the only possible way in which she might emerge from her rebellion with anything like success. . ’ *** Gerald Alderley stepped out of a house he had been visiting in Hamilton Place and the door closed behind him. No matter how often she came across this phase in love stories, there was never anything explanatory: as if all human beings perfectly understood. All the precious paintings and statues of the divine family were here, as was the enormous wooden crucifix set above the altar. He was also, had she known it, more than a little insincere. “Gods,” she said, at last, “I’ve done it this time!” “Well!” She took up the neat morocco purse, opened it, and examined the contents. ‘Me, I do not need the help of anyone. ‘—and what do I do? Well, we know what I do. ” He paused for a time. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips.
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