” “It is for your good—your good only I am thinking,” he declared. ” “But Hainault—assured—me—that the marriage was binding. What was the wench at? Yet he could not maintain this stand off forever. They went down the great staircase of the building, and, while she sought in her mind for a beginning, he broke into appreciation of her simple dress and selfcongratulations upon their engagement. They were the only real marriages she had seen clearly. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger. But—but how?’ ‘Can you write?’ Gerald asked, digging into one of his capacious pockets and bringing out a leather ring purse.
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