Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. ‘You’ve cause to be grateful to Gerald, then. ’ *** It must have been fate, Gerald decided, near an hour later, staring intently at the closed French windows on the raised alcove that led out to the terrace. From what she could tell, he truly had convinced himself that he was in love with her, but she knew that his ardor would fade eventually inasmuch as she knew John’s would. It was a large, littered, self-forgetful apartment, decorated with unframed charcoal sketches by various incipient masters; and an open bookcase, surmounted by plaster casts and the half of a human skull, displayed an odd miscellany of books—Shaw and Swinburne, Tom Jones, Fabian Essays, Pope and Dumas, cheek by jowl. “Must be hard to find a decent violin teacher these days. " "No; another still more extraordinary. “I suppose you know I like you tremendously?” he pursued. Sheppard reached the debtor's garrison. Presently he felt motion.
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