The business of serving gave Gerald a few moment’s grace, for he was dubious about the effect on an elderly female, not in the best of health, of raking up old memories. “I mean to go to that dance!” she blubbered. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. She could not move. Spurling attended him as his nurse, and, under her care, he speedily revived. Her hair and voice and figure are as yours used to be. She had carried a chair into the room veranda and had watched and listened until the night silences had lengthened and only occasionally she heard a voice or the rattle of rickshaw wheels in the courtyard. The light disappeared. She was in ill trim for walking, but somehow or other she made her way as far as the Champs Elysées, and sank down upon an empty seat. "Then I'll have it before to-morrow morning," said the keeper of the New Prison, to himself. She made a step forward. Spurling, half aside. This obstacle, which appeared to preclude the possibility of egress in that quarter, was speedily got rid of.
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