Drummond took up a cigarette and lit it. Gerald watched her perambulations in silence, his heart wrung. Standing before a mirror set on a dresser between the windows, two hands frozen in the act of adjusting a wide-brimmed hat on her head, stood a lady in a dark riding habit, her startled features turned towards the door. “Suppose you call me by my proper name,” she said quietly. ’ ‘Why did you not claim it yourself?’ asked Gerald. We both understood that. It is dull—deadly dull. I'll tell you something. Dear God, what a beautiful moment!" The fire went out of Spurlock's eyes and the shadow of hopeless weariness fell upon him. V. She would have to leave very soon. ‘From the convent, where else?’ ‘It does not strike me that you can possibly have been in a convent. One might have said that these trees grieved for their native soil; and, grieving, refused to bear.
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