Stonily he had disengaged himself. . Oh! you haven't got the key—then I must have it, I suppose. ’ ‘Comment? You wish to murder me?’ ‘No, I wish to beat you,’ he retorted. Earles himself stood upon the threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. Her mind wandered back to that fateful day. She was for ever scanning luggage and finding her way about the world, via these miniature pictures. He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine.
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