The looming face was 71 over her own once again, and arms as strong as iron bars held her down. ‘I am not a fool. ’ ‘Oh, don’t you?’ Gerald said grimly. They alighted at the restaurant, and stood for a moment in the passage looking into the crowded room. Again he played for her; and again the eruption of the strange senses that lay hidden in her soul. But, on the bursting of that bubble, his hopes vanished with it. Spurling. We middle-aged fools and we old fools can no longer dream. He never retires to rest till daybreak—if at all. Come up stairs, and take a glass of brandy. “Surely!” he remarked, with an expression of worried appeal.
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