Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere. Here we go, thought Gerald. ‘As I said, a mistake. “The rest,” she said, holding tightly to his hands, “is the most important of all. Ramage went up the Avenue, and she hurried along the path with a beating heart and a disagreeable sense of unsolved problems in her mind. It had ceased raining, but the atmosphere was moist and chill, and the ground deluged by the recent showers.
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