She was herself conscious of a recklessness of spirits almost hysterical. It came again. CHAPTER III. But after all, what did it matter whether she had secrets or not? To him she was not a woman but a symbol; and one did not investigate the antecedents of symbols. His grey eyes burned under his shaggy eyebrows. ‘But if there is one, how in the world did this mystery lady of yours know of it?’ ‘That, Lucy, is precisely the point that has been exercising my mind,’ Gerald said, turning his eyes once more to the group of French exiles in the alcove. “What a gloomy person you are!” she murmured. ‘I do not know the word in English. Pennsylvania Dutch. That was something in his favour. " And then his interest would cease.
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