He was going to tell me something— and he shut up. ‘Up, Jacques, up,’ she ordered. They did not spend most days together. You’re a far cry from your usual gloomy self these days. “Can you spare me forty pounds?” she said. ’ ‘It’s too late for that,’ Gerald told her evenly. What passed between them I cannot think—I dare not. I have tried not to tell you—tried to be simply your friend. “Don’t you know, child, that this is torture for me? What in God’s name more can you have to tell me?” Her face had become almost like a marble image.
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