“Ass!” he went on, still warming. Mountains out of molehills and armies out of windmills; and you'll tire yourself in one direction and shatter yourself in the other. ’ ‘Now why didn’t I make that connection?’ Gerald asked of the air in a tone of regret. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. ’ Gerald was relieved to find the girl did not attempt to run away, but meekly allowed him to usher her into the spacious and comfortable library which was his habitual haunt when at home. ‘Maybe not,’ Gerald conceded, ‘but I’m damned if I herald my approach with a lot of unnecessary blundering about in the dark. They did not spend most days together. Cool and sunny, it seemed that God himself smiled upon that day, the sunbeams streaming through the magnificent arches dustily as the priest murmured in soporific Latin.
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