“I believe,” he said slowly, “that I shall do best to throw myself upon your consideration and tell you the truth. Then he stood up and hailed a fiacre. He pulled away. ” “Why?” Mr. She moved her hand off of his knee, deliberately slow. Her face scarcely reflected his enthusiasm. Once again, he passed his hand over the surface and carefully noted all the obstacles. Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap. “What ought you to do?” He began to produce his knowledge of the world for her benefit, jerkily and allusively, and with a strong, rank flavor of “savoir faire. Jack Kimble nodded eagerly. And then suddenly—a relief. 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. It seems to me very silly.
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