The great gray boles of the palms reminded him of some fabulous Grecian temple. "The manager says there is still some doubt. What do you know about her, Fred? I am interested. Books! Aren't they wonderful?" The blind alley of life stretching out before her, with its secret doorways and hidden menaces; and she was unconcerned. He was perched on the very edge of the leather seat of the coach, his threecornered hat twisting nervously in his hands, and from time to time he passed a tongue over dry lips. ‘Dare I suppose that to be of her making?’ Gerald flushed. Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year. "Well, how goes it?" he asked. The tension was palpable.
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