At last, a little way to the northward of Euston Road, the moral cloud seemed to lift, the moral atmosphere to change; clean blinds appeared in the windows, clean doorsteps before the doors, a different appeal in the neatly placed cards bearing the word ————————————— | APARTMENTS ————————————— | in the clear bright windows. Of course, at home there would have been questions. She controlled herself, and answered meekly, “No. ‘But it is not on the horse at all, Jacques. Goopes down on him with the lesson Titian teaches so beautifully in his “Sacred and Profane Love,” and became quite eloquent upon the impossibility of any deception in the former. A faint, delightfully humorous smile parted her lips. There was question in Gerald’s gaze as it met hers, and apology in his voice. Nobody toys with me. Let me engage myself.
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