Mere formality. ’ ‘Merci,’ she sighed and, surrendering at last to his oft-proffered aid, allowed her head to droop onto his chest. ’ ‘Why must you?’ asked Gerald calmly. The wish was vain: and, endeavouring to banish every earthly thought, he addressed himself deeply and sincerely to prayer. Lucy savored the normalcy of the scene. To dream and to labour: to you, my labour; to Ruth, my dreams. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her.
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