Something he saw there made him feel for a moment ashamed. The boy would naturally attract the women, if the women were at all romantic. I wonder whether you would mind, Lady Ferringhall,” he went on, with a sudden glance at her, “if I tell you that you yourself remind me a great deal more of what she was like then, except of course that your complexion and colouring are altogether different. It is like some accident. A glance down the passage—to see that Roding was not lurking?—and her face came back to Gerald, triumph in her eyes. “It is a night of endings,” she murmured to herself. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. If there is any drinking, I'll do it. He held down the light, and a moment afterwards beckoned, with a blanched cheek, to Rowland.
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