That shining slope of snow, and how we talked of death! We might have died! Even when we are old, when we are rich as we may be, we won’t forget the tune when we cared nothing for anything but the joy of one another, when we risked everything for one another, when all the wrappings and coverings seemed to have fallen from life and left it light and fire. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. ‘Precisely. Something that is born anew each time we meet, and pines when we are separated. During that period she has been a model of propriety. ’ ‘Nothing of the sort,’ Gerald said calmly, sipping at his burgundy.
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