Never for a moment had violence come between these two since long ago he had, in spite of her mother’s protest in the background, carried her kicking and squalling to the nursery for some forgotten crime. In the matter of his conscience he was primitive; and for an educated man to become primitive is to become something of a child. It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing. But I wanted to find out more, partly so I could share it with him. Monsieur Valade heaved a gusty sigh, and Gerald, with heavy diplomacy and a forced heartiness of manner, turned the subject. “By God! Ann Veronica,” he said, sighing deeply.
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