“You are too good for me,” she said in a low voice. He thought it best to let the matter drop. Jim is up to the neck in Mahatmas and Theosophy and Higher Thought and rot—writes letters worse than Alice. I will permit you to rescue me. Silly, isn’t it? Undisciplined. ’ So pat, thought Gerald. ’ ‘Leonardo again,’ Gerald muttered and, to her disappointment, dropped her hand. We married, and for a time we were happy. Wearied at length with thinking on the past, and terrified by the prospect of the future, he threw himself on the straw with which the cage was littered, and endeavoured to compose himself to slumber.
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