“I think we’ve exhausted this discussion,” she said. It would be swindling. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. He was not Meysey Hill, but an Englishman of business, and he had only a small income. Not a bad man as men go, but he would sell whisky and gin. Roused by the bell tolling for evening service, Jack left the house. Anna was sitting before the fire a little distance from him—Ennison himself remained standing. “My husband and all his friends are fools, and the life they lead is impossible for me.
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