Once she heard him mutter, and she leaned down. She was too late. I must tell somebody—and you would understand. Then they dressed her in a dirty dress of coarse serge and a cap, and took away her own clothes. She appeared not to have realised the implications of her outburst, but clung a little to Gerald’s hands which had taken hers in a comforting clasp. “He is quiet only this minute,” she said to the official. Yet you can look Cheveney in the face and declare that you do not know him. It had been part of her wedding trousseau, a gift from her family to his.
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