“We have no airs and graces here, and my hat hangs from a peg in the passage. Oh, to face facts! Gods! what a world it might be if people faced facts! Understanding! Understanding! There is no other salvation. “Please let me drive you home. Let’s have an advance round of applause for our concertmaster, 249 Lucy Albert!” Lucy was horrified. ’ ‘Yes, a pretty theory, Lucy,’ Gerald said evenly, ‘but for one thing. I have weird skin. But you shall swing, rascal,—you shall swing. He then threw open the door of the vehicle, in which he found his janizaries with their arms pinioned, and, leaping into it, ordered the man to drive off. Gerald doubted there would be many eager suitors, even assuming the comtesse was keen to marry off her daughter to a foreign protestant. She was aware of people—her aunt, her father, her fellow-students, friends, and neighbors— moving about outside this glowing secret, very much as an actor is aware of the dim audience beyond the barrier of the footlights.
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