It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. The hymnal lyrics had never stirred her; she had memorized and sung them parrotwise. " "What do you mean, Sir?" asked Trenchard. Anyone would be intrigued. She would not be driven in by this persistent, sneaking aggression. Indignation carried her through that night, that men and the world could so entreat her. He was the true optimist; and that he should proceed, serenely unconscious of reefs and storms, she accepted the double buffets. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. It may be a long string, long enough if you like to tangle up all sorts of people; but there it is! If the paymaster pulls, home she must go.
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