Abruptly, Gerald turned. What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. He sat on the bed, throwing aside his hat. "But we must be getting along if we are to lunch in the tower of the water-clock. Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned. “I opened my eyes, and she was bending over my bedside. A shudder rippled across his shoulders. It is a very small affair, after all, and you can pay me back if you will. ’ ‘I think you—’ He broke off abruptly, astonished at what he had been about to say. "Mr. " "Wood!" exclaimed Trenchard,—"of Wych Street?" "The same. Best assured of that.
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