“And, after all, I am just one common person!” She watched the throb of the arteries in the stem of her neck, and put her hand at last gently and almost timidly to where her heart beat beneath her breast. “Why not? Isn’t the whole thing a lie? Isn’t her reputation, this husband of hers, the ‘Alcide’ business, isn’t it all a cursed juggle? She hasn’t the right to do it. He displayed none of the airy optimism of their previous talk over the downland gate. The bars dropped noiselessly and slowly down, till the chain tightened at the staple. Gregory B. John said nothing. There he sat, cheerfully friendly in his sex’s freedom—the man she loved, the one man she cared should unlock the way to the wide world for her imprisoned feminine possibilities, and he seemed regardless that she stifled under his eyes; he made a jest of all this passionate insurgence of the souls of women against the fate of their conditions. Don’t touch the handle, Annabel! Curse the thing, you’ve jammed it now. Unobserved, she knelt and kissed the threshold: for she knew what kisses were now. Oddly, Sebastian chose to be charioteer. He took her fingers and lifted his eyes to hers. "So I will," rejoined Shotbolt; "so I will. Who were you looking for tonight? One of the émigrés? There were several in there.
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