‘Gérard!’ ‘Yes, it’s I,’ he said, and grinned. She thrashed and screamed as he wrestled her back towards the bed. But, in spite of his general insensibility to such matters, Quilt could not help commenting upon the delicious perfume wafted from the numerous flower-beds past which they were driving. "Do you compare your love—a love which all may purchase—with hers? No one has ever loved me. It comes over the mountains, Anna, pink darkening into orange red, everywhere a wonderful cloud sea, scintillating with colour. The room was reeling, or was it that she was going to faint? She recovered herself with a supreme effort. It melted her heart. He was always deceived by these rustlings which promised wind and seldom fulfilled that promise.
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