The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. Because she states her case in a tangle, drags it through swamps of nonsense, it doesn’t alter the fact that she is right. Gerald’s gaze bored into hers. “Does he never speak to you of—of old times?” she faltered. To these she added the wine and spirits directed, and when all was arranged looked inquisitively at her master.
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