‘What the devil for?’ ‘Messenger,’ Gerald explained. Sheila found out. There are so many things I want to tell you, and they stand on such different levels, that the effect is necessarily confusing and discordant, and I find myself doubting if I am really giving you the thread of emotion that should run through all this letter. The music confused and distracted her, and made her struggle against a feeling of intoxication. On their return, the jailers raised up Jonathan, who was weltering in his blood, and who appeared to be dying. Now, abruptly, they were real again, though very distant, and she had come to say farewell to them across one sundering year. “TROUSERS!” she whispered. “I can tell you are thinking about it.
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