She had suddenly become as the jewels of the Madonna, as the idol's eye, infinitely beyond his reach, sacred. “Of course I’m manager for this expedition,” he said, after an interval of self-examination. A stack of chimneys, on the house above them, had yielded to the storm, and descended in a shower of bricks and stones. She told the porter to take it to the booking-office, and it was only after a disconcerting moment or so that she found she ought to have directed him to go to the cloak-room. He leaned towards her, laid his hand tenderly upon hers.
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