’ Gerald frowned in an effort of memory, and then laughed as he recalled one of the lies she had invented for his benefit. I've a shrewd guess where he's taken refuge; but I'll ferret him out. "I cannot remain here long. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. Yes, yes; that was all very well in ordinary cases; but yonder was a soul in travail, if ever she had seen one. His natal burr was always in evidence when he was sentimentally affected. ‘Idiot!’ ‘Enough, now! Softly, you little termagant,’ he ordered, seizing her wrists to hold her off.
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