“Lord!” she said. “I wonder,” he said, “how you would like to be made love to—boldly or timorously or sentimentally. Sheppard, fixing her glazing eyes upon him. Gerald studied the darkness beyond the aperture. Why was she noting things like this? Capes seemed selfpossessed and elaborately genial and commonplace, but she knew him to be nervous by a little occasional clumsiness, by the faintest shadow of vulgarity in the urgency of his hospitality. A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter. “So it seems that I was wrong.
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