To his relief, Mrs Sindlesham stepped into the breach, grasping her cane and rising painfully from her chair. ‘I am not a fool. He looked eager and flushed and troubled. As she talked she made weak little gestures with her hands, and she thrust her face forward from her bent shoulders; and she peered sometimes at Ann Veronica and sometimes at a photograph of the Axenstrasse, near Fluelen, that hung upon the wall. Gerald at once lowered his voice to that intimate level again, and leaned towards her. A sense of impending disaster was upon him. This discovery made, I hastened back to London to offer you my hand, but found you had married in the mean time a smock-faced, smooth-tongued carpenter named Sheppard. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger. So he decided to stay. And it has been well for you that he imagines the child was drowned. With me behaving as if everything was infinitely matter-of-fact, what could he do? And just then Heaven sent old Manningtree—I didn’t tell you before of the fortunate intervention of Manningtree, did I? He was looking quite infernally distinguished, with a wide crimson ribbon across him—what IS a wide crimson ribbon? Some sort of knight, I suppose. ‘Take this. Sheppard, again arresting his departure. .
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