He succeeded so well that they were almost in Montague Street before Anna stopped short. Her eyes filled as she thought of him, the image of his laughing countenance coming into her mind, to be swiftly followed by a vision of the blood running from his cut hand. His shoulders relaxed and his gaze wavered. He went more easily this time. If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. But there was something in his face at once stupid and invincible that told her he would go on forcing himself upon her, that he would esteem speech with her a great point gained. “Homely?” “Well, yeah, that’s what he said. You’re just a particular being with nothing else in the world to class with you. . She turned about, and was persecuted by visions, half memories, half dreams, of Ramage. Dieu du ciel, but where was Gerald? On the move again, she found herself standing before one of the mirrors, gazing into her own countenance without seeing it. The problem had returned, made gigantic by the possibility of Ruth's love. The ragged edge.
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