"Here, wife—hostess—fetch me that bottle from the second shelf in the corner cupboard. Not I. ” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch. She hadn't measured up; she had been stupid; she hadn't known how to make love. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. He resumed his listening. Gerald at once lowered his voice to that intimate level again, and leaned towards her. Please don’t let any one know that. I must say what I have to say!” “But not now—not here. ” “You can make any arrangements you like,” Anna declared.
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