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There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. Gerald went through all the papers in front of Gosse and that woman of his, one by one. He had the air of a man who has said too much. The fair boy in the audience who had waved was yet another suitor. “It really seems as if we shall have to put down marigolds altogether next year,” Aunt Molly repeated three times, “and do away with marguerites. Too close, he reasoned, for safety. ” “Do you mean,” Courtlaw asked, “that from now to the end of the six months you do not wish to see us—any of us?” Her eyes were a little dim again. That held his thought as the magnet holds the needle, inescapably. She answered him almost coldly.
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