It isn’t law, nor custom, nor masculine violence settled that. The girl nodded sagely. She loved him. ‘My God!’ he said, ‘I’ll go after them and kill him. ’ ‘Damn you, I should have beaten you,’ Gerald swore, holding fast to his corner of the little square of linen. She found herself anxious to read more of him, and the next Wednesday she went to the British Museum and hunted first among the half-crown magazines for his essays and then through various scientific quarterlies for his research papers. If Winifred remained silent, her looks would have disarmed a person of less assurance than the woollen-draper.
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