His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. They talked lightly and smoked cigarettes till Anna, with a little laugh, threw open the window and let in the cool night air. Wild in his own domain. “What were you doing outside Miss Pellissier’s flat to-night? You were looking at her windows. They were the three most beautiful women I had ever seen. ’ ‘Then why,’ demanded Melusine, ‘did you do it?’ Gerald closed his eyes. Without preamble, in a voice of extreme exasperation, he demanded, ‘Now what the devil’s to do? What in God’s name do you mean by sending Gerald such a ridiculous letter? Never read anything half as crazy. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections.
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