Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned. . Gerald liked her enormously. “How do you know—why do you think that my name is Anna?” He smiled in a quietly superior way. What do you say to Brighton——” Anna looked at him quietly—and he never finished his sentence. It was in another world from that in which men will die for a kiss, and touching hands lights fires that burn up lives—the world of romance, the world of passionately beautiful things. He must be more or less of an age with this man. “There is some one else whom I care for!” He laughed hardly.
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