“I’ve tried to make words tell it. There were one or two bitter moments in his life when he had been made to feel that gentility laid on with a brush may sometimes crack and show weak places—that deportment and breeding are after all things apart. They shouted to her from the wings to come off. Man's fate is in his own hands. He shrugged and, to Gerald’s relief, made to leave at last. Little by little, she stopped hating him. Something in her voice and manner conveyed an effect of unwonted gravity to him. In fact, Gerald had given order to the coachman to drive out of Golden Square and then stop around the corner. “This is Mr. I won't give him a chance.
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