‘If you shoot me,’ Gerald said quickly, throwing out a hand, ‘I shan’t be able to rescue you. ‘Ah, now I may see what damage Gérard has done to me,’ she muttered, crossing to the table and putting her hand to the sore place at her neck. I overlooked the mechanical imperfections of your work, the utter lack of finish, the crudeness of your drawing. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. ‘Doesn’t she, Gerald?’ Gerald held up his hands. ’ She simpered, and withdrew one hand so that she might smack his fingers playfully. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. She had a compartment to herself in the train from London to Morningside Park, and she sat with both her feet on the seat in an attitude that would certainly have distressed her mother to see, and horrified her grandmother beyond measure; she sat with her knees up to her chin and her hands clasped before them, and she was so lost in thought that she discovered with a start, from a lettered lamp, that she was at Morningside Park, and thought she was moving out of the station, whereas she was only moving in. I have never been wrong about the sex of an unborn child.
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