They had not so far been of much personal interest to Gerald, but tonight was different. ‘What do you think?’ ‘What do I think?’ repeated Captain Roding. Or at least he did the day before yesterday. Well, well; all he himself could do would be to watch this singular drama unroll. Every girl in the world practically, except a few of us who teach or type-write, and then we’re underpaid and sweated—it’s dreadful to think how we are sweated!” She had lost her generalization, whatever it was. And turning again, as if the emotions she had churned up kept her on the move, she paced back to the mantel and there stopped, staring at her own reflection in the tarnished mirror. ‘I don’t know what the devil you’re talking about. Spurlock mused over the previous night.
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