Afraid there'll be a love-affair. She was in one of her old walking-dresses, her hair was done in an unfamiliar manner, she wore a wedding-ring, and she looked as if she had been crying. Next instant, Gerald felt his wrist seized in an iron grip. Picked up the photograph, looked at it, handed it back, and never batted an eye! The act was as clear as daylight, but the motive was as profoundly mysterious as the race itself. “When you married me——” Her little hand flashed out across the table. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard.
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