” “Why?” she asked. I often think of those delightful evenings in Paris. ’ ‘Why did you not claim it yourself?’ asked Gerald. There she would wander about in the kindly darkness. His mind was filled briefly with psychic images of a charnel house that danced like a spider in his head. The room was papered with green, large-patterned paper that was at worst a trifle dingy, and the arm-chair and the seats of the other chairs were covered with the unusual brightness of a large-patterned chintz, which also supplied the window-curtain. ’ Gerald gazed at her without expression. Perhaps the sunken cheeks and the protruding cheekbones gave her this impression. When she slipped off of it her head started to bob, filled with air. It would be very good to be Capes’ friend.
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