It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. Her heart was beating with quite unaccustomed vigour, her hands were hot, she was conscious of a warmth in her blood which the summer sunshine was scarcely responsible for. She was frowning, but it was evident that her initial fright had left her. The rain smelled of the Tyrrhenian Sea, which lay only a few paces beyond the manor's white sea-soaked walls. We men are like children. “Lucy, do you forgive me?” She looked at him in earnest. She came with such force that she feared he might be pushed out from 193 the contractions, which did not happen. Then with an indescribable relief her feet were on the pavement, and she was being urged along by two policemen, who were gripping her wrists in an irresistible expert manner. The Bed Room 400 XIX.
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