‘From the convent, where else?’ ‘It does not strike me that you can possibly have been in a convent. I believe—I believe that I must risk it. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. She was supposed to be reading at home, and after breakfast she strolled into the vegetable garden, and having taken up a position upon the staging of a disused greenhouse that had the double advantage of being hidden from the windows of the house and secure from the sudden appearance of any one, she resumed the reading of Mr. . You’re mine. Brendon,” she said, “if I could ask for advice, or borrow money from any one, I would from you—there! But I cannot. It is all very complex. I am rehearsing now for a new play at the ‘Garrick’ and I have quite made up my mind to try and make some sort of position for myself as an actress. ’ ‘Consider me warned,’ said Gerald solemnly. The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. She had been going with a twenty-two year old man named Julian Rimbauer in secret.
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