She sensed he might try and wane on her doorstep. Even the most sullen and withdrawn were sensitive to the penetrating nastiness of the fog. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her. Drummond had made an abominable mistake. The musician. “That is as you will,” she said. She could hear the bell tinkle as the horse shook its head. Mrs Sindlesham’s wrinkled cheek had paled, and her eyes were fixed upon Gerald in a look that wrung his heart.
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