Just a formal marriage. “I don’t want you to do it, to go on talking to me. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. He opened the door for her with a faint disagreeable smile. ‘Parbleu, how you make me talk!’ ‘Your secret is safe with me, I promise you,’ Gerald said reassuringly. Ennison too, always handsome and debonnair, seemed transported out of his calm self. When the paroxysm passed, he was forced to lean against the window-jamb for support. "There he is!" cried Winifred, starting up, joyfully, and proving by the exclamation that her thoughts were dwelling upon one subject only.
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