The white veil had fallen to the ground and Gerald retrieved it for her. She was sore with the perplexities of her preposterous position. “It does not appear to me,” he said, stiffly, “to be an affair for jests. I do not love any one. And Pottiswick, of course. Ramage?” he asked. Her back arched and she felt herself instinctively sinking into him. “I believe after all it’s coming out!” said Miss Stanley. His eyes flashed as he turned towards her. She proceeded to lift the front end of the car five feet from the ground with one hand. A sarcastic smile seemed to play upon the chief-taker's lips; and abashed at his own irresolution, the lad went on. His brows drew a little nearer together. Abruptly, Gerald turned. Cars rushed by on the street, swerving into the middle of the two lane road to avoid the knee-deep puddles forming around sewer grates.
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