She got up, put the neat cuffs she had made into her work-basket, and went to the bureau for the little cards in the morocco case. Finally she decided upon a step that had always seemed reasonable to her, but that hitherto she had, from motives too faint for her to formulate, refrained from taking. Charvill’s fury was burning out. "You do love me?" "God knows how much!" Suddenly he laid his head on her shoulder. It moved a trifle, stepping back and lifting an arm to rub the sleeve against the glass. “Mid-thirties. “By Jove!” he said, “there is something direct about you.
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