‘Where is Gérard?’ ‘Out of town,’ Hilary said briefly. But it's French manners, I suppose. He was really very proud of her, and extraordinarily angry and resentful at the innocent and audacious selfreliance that seemed to intimate her sense of absolute independence of him, her absolute security without him. He walked through the misty September night to his rooms. You shall hear from me to-morrow. It had been brighter than the rest, for dawn light had come in through high unshuttered casements above the bookshelves. I was always used to it, and I think it gives quite a tone to an establishment.
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