"All my life I've dreamed of something like this," he said, divertingly, with a gesture which included the yacht. Gerald was conscious of that sliver of irritation again at mention of the name. I am going to make a fresh start. He swore that I was his wife, and—I shot him, Nigel, as his arms were closing around me. There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. 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. Fortescue rambled round the garden with soft, propitiatory steps, the Corinthian nose upraised and his hands behind his back, pausing to look long and hard at the fruit-trees against the wall. Happen what might, he could not be in a worse position.
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