The young man did not know what he was doing or where he was. ’ ‘I like that,’ Gerald protested. As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. “The one who used to live at Lyndmore. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. Where her husband saw only two youngsters in the mating mood, she felt that tragedy in some phase lurked in this room—if only in the loneliness of these two, without kith or kin apparently, thousands of miles from home.
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