Chapter XVI THE DISCOMFITURE OF SIR JOHN Sir John looked from one to the other of the two sisters. ‘What is it?’ asked Roding. “Go on!” “You know—in Paris they coupled my name with some one’s—an Englishman’s. She was not a reversion to type, which intimates the primordial; she suggested rather the incarnation of some goddess of the South Seas. Her knees were trembling, her whole frame was shaken with sobs. She must weigh her situation. Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year. Alors, how did you get in?’ ‘Oh, we broke in,’ Gerald told her cheerfully. “I think that you are very dense. “Do you know,” she said, “that every one is remarking how ill you look. ” He drew a little nearer to her.
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