He turned me so that he could have a companion in his loneliness. I do not even know his name. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last. I’m not Gerald, remember. She has married some one he could not approve of, and gone right away. We have that gift. Set on unravelling her secrets, Gerald pursues every possible clue—much to the indignation of Mademoiselle. Mutual concessions!—and then to turn it around so that it suggested that an act of kindness might be interpreted as moral obloquy! Walls; queer, invisible walls that receded whenever she reached out, but that still remained between her and what she sought.
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