” “How?” “Well—a little clumsily. ’ ‘She is no longer a mystery,’ Gerald said. “I’m covered. No good at all. He had brought the shrubs down from Syria, and, strangely enough, they had prospered. ” He was strangely silent. ” “Well”—her breath failed her for a moment. These sweeping dignities were not within the compass of her will; she remembered she liked Ramage, and owed things to him, and she was interested—she was profoundly interested. Of course she had taken the boy as her lover, acting as his muse. She walked with long swinging steps, scorning the thought of buses or the tube.
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