To-night she had a curious feeling that she stood upon the threshold of some change. “Anna,” she cried, “you must believe me. Gerald’s thoughts raced as he reached out supporting hands and murmured meaningless phrases to soothe. To-morrow at twelve I'll be with you, Mr. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. He could not see these two shrinking misses capering about in a nun’s habit and brandishing a defiant pistol. I have weird skin. A maidservant held the front door open. She waited for him to leave the room, and turned back to Gerald. “Fancy stabbing a man for jealousy!” she thought.
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