Under the plumed hat, her eye kindled. Picked up the photograph, looked at it, handed it back, and never batted an eye! The act was as clear as daylight, but the motive was as profoundly mysterious as the race itself. ‘Lord in heaven, did I do that?’ exclaimed Gerald remorsefully. She could not feel her own body. . Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled.
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