’ Gerald moved to the long sofa, dusted it with elaborate care with one of its cushions, and with a gesture invited her to sit down. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. He was nearly wincing. “I wonder what happened. She reminded him sometimes of the one holy and ineffable Madonna, at others of Berode, the great courtezan of her day, who had sent kings away from her doors, and had just announced her intention of ending her life in a convent. “I can’t endure it,” she said. ’ ‘It will be worth the pain, you will see. A few feet away, across the low vases of pink and white roses, sat Annabel, more beautiful to-night perhaps than ever before in her life.
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