" "Mad as you are, you're the more sensible of the two, I must say," rejoined Jonathan. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. She was her mother’s child, fair of face, doted upon and spoiled by her attentions. Could she understand what she was talking about? Luckily it was a second-class carriage and the ordinary fellowtravellers were not there. For a long time to come that would naturally be the theme of any story he undertook to write. She had adored the stupid thing, and kept it in her pocket for about ten years.
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