It was only a matter of time. Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. The business of serving gave Gerald a few moment’s grace, for he was dubious about the effect on an elderly female, not in the best of health, of raking up old memories. Wood, in a taunting tone. The girl who had just left the room was as great a mystery to him now as on the afternoon when he had met her in Piccadilly and taken her to tea. She attempted by a sheer act of will to end the scene, to will herself out of it anywhere. Why, then, did he touch it? As he climbed heavily into his chair, she was able to note the little beads of sweat under the cracked nether lip.
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