’ Gerald ignored this. "But we must be getting along if we are to lunch in the tower of the water-clock. I don’t want to tear at you with hot, rough hands. His glance swept up again and found her staring at him with much of her usual defiance, if a touch less of her customary assurance. If he adhered to this policy—to keep away from her inconspicuously—she would forget the name by night, and to-morrow even the bearer of it would sink below the level of recollection. Pile it on! But if you can hear the voice of the mote, the speck, don't let her suffer for anything I've done. She began to look for beauty and discover it in unexpected aspects and places.
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