She saw her life before her robbed of all generous illusions, the wrappered life unwrappered forever, vistas of dull responses, crises of makebelieve, years of exacting mutual disregard in a misty garden of fine sentiments. She caught her breath, and her eyes were lit with a sudden terror. ‘You are the one that I have met in London. “She must have character. "I am not, by Heaven!" replied Sheppard, firmly. ‘Gérard, you are a great fool. Gold-handled, too. I have been dreaming of your body and you night after night. Abruptly she desisted, recoiled, and turned and fled up-stairs. Not once during the ceremony did the two look at each other, but riveted their gaze upon the lips of the man who was forging the bands: gazed intensively, as if they feared the world might vanish before the last word of the ceremony was spoken.
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