She was aware of the body of the court, of clerks seated at a black table littered with papers, of policemen standing about stiffly with expressions of conscious integrity, and a murmuring background of the heads and shoulders of spectators close behind her. “Does he ever ask about me?” She asked, feeling like a cuckolded old maid. She had not anticipated such a response from her classmates, but knew to be drawing them with her self-consciousness as if they were bees to pollen. He sounds to me like a soldier of fortune. ’ ‘Which is exactly what started us off,’ Gerald said to his friend with a grin, as he gave up his injured hand to the other’s ministrations. “His love-making,” she remarked, “struck me as unconvincing.
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