It was supposed he was drowned in crossing the river, as his body had never been found. She went to a writing-desk and made some memoranda on a sheet of note-paper, and then remembered that she had no address as yet to which letters could be sent. ‘I am saying so,’ protested Gerald mildly. She climbed slowly towards it, keeping close to the hedge side, fragrant with wild roses, and holding her skirts high above the dew-laden grass. Her eyes were insane with rage, crusted with yellow and green, only beginning to heal from her long sojourn underground. “And even then—” The conversation hung for a thoughtful moment. ‘That’s my pet name.
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