" "She? My God, the pity of it! She knows nothing of life. “I suppose most people’s letters are queer. The smell that emanated from the opening was abominable. Sheila pounded the kitchen table, causing the bell jar with the silk flowers to tip over and roll to the floor. ‘But of course. ’ ‘When you begin to tell the truth,’ Gerald told her severely, ‘I shall be happy to believe you. They were sounding more and more like Civic every day. Outside in the hall he paused and thoughtfully stroked his smooth blue chin. Suppose—suppose a girl did want to start in life, start in life for herself—” She looked him frankly in the eyes. "Of yourself," he replied, in a mournful tone. Wood, reproachfully, as they returned to the parlour.
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