She held out her hand for it, but Gerald smiled. Nothing else matters. It was long and narrow, with a ceiling supported by huge uncovered rafters, and so low as scarcely to allow a tall man like himself to stand erect beneath it. It was hard to meet that gaze. He was not, in truth, much of a ladies’ man. Some of your sex, I mean. I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. And what did she do? Not only did she cut his hand in her rage, but she refused to let him help her, and then she ran away from him.
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