She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. She had a feeling as though something had dropped from her eyes, as though she had just discovered herself for the first time—discovered herself as a sleepwalker might do, abruptly among dangers, hindrances, and perplexities, on the verge of a cardinal crisis. It frightened her to behold her heart and mind thus laid bare; but the chapter following would reassure her. In one hand she carried a long-stalked red rose, dripping with dew, in the other the post-bag. It looks so French to be affectionate. You have the gift of words, but you haven't started to create yet. I swear to you, solemnly swear to you, I will save your son's life, nay more, will befriend him, will place him out of the reach of his enemies, if you consent to become my wife. Grimly Hilary smiled to himself at the effect of Gerald’s name.
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