“I’m not the Devil. What could I do at home? The other’s a crumple-up—just surrender. Here was a terrific figure gnashing his teeth, and howling like a wild beast;—there a lover, with hands clasped together and eyes turned passionately upward. The letter began: “MY DEAREST GIRL,—I cannot let you do this foolish thing—” She crumpled notes and letter together in her hand, and then with a passionate gesture flung them into the fire. ’ ‘That I do not doubt,’ Gerald muttered drily, but added in a tone of intense satisfaction, ‘Then this husband is still in France? Excellent. Away off in the fields the bluesmocked peasants bent still at their toil. We looked upon you, my dear Sir John, with reverence, almost with awe. Heaven forbid.
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