Gerald stood quite still for a moment or two, listening intently. When I carried you up here like a bride, that is the way I wanted us to be, Mary Lucia. ‘Dolt! Muttonheaded oaf! Why the deuce couldn’t he have sent you home?’ Valade cut in at that. The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park. “I missed the hour of your release,” he said, “but I was at the Vindicator Restaurant. The City worried him a good deal, and what energy he had left over he spent partly in golf, a game he treated very seriously, and partly in the practices of microscopic petrography.
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