The other kicked over the traces a bit, made rather a hit with her singing at some of those French places, and went the pace in a mild, ladylike sort of way. The picture in her mind altered and she saw again the way Gerald had looked with consternation upon the bruises he had inflicted on her wrist. The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction. Gerald stood quite still for a moment or two, listening intently. Her hair, once red, faded to a thin gray that she kept cut into a practical short bob. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. Gerald’s temper flared. She was, by certain signs, charged with anger, but she saw upon the faces of these two young fools the look of angels and an ineffable kindness breathed upon her withered heart. . Anna herself opened the hall door.
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