Gerald was conscious of that sliver of irritation again at mention of the name. "Quite sorry, my good friend, there should have been any misunderstanding between us," observed the woollen-draper. Courtlaw found the study in Cariolus’ studio. His mother's scream seemed again to ring in his ears, and he was so deeply affected that, fearful of exciting attention, he was about to quit the sacred edifice, when he was stopped by the entrance of Thames, who looked pale as death, with Winifred leaning on his arm. Perhaps that sealed letter was a form of confession, and thus relieved him on that score. She held out the foil. Montague Hill do not interest me in the least.
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