’ ‘How shocking,’ Gerald returned, grinning. He wrote poems to her beauty that he recited from a seemingly infinite memory. A little within stood a second door, or rather wicket, lower than the first, but of equal strength, and surmounted by a row of sharp spikes. She had come to despise those who were fertile out of pure jealousy, but could not admit it to herself. "He is," replied a portly personage, arrayed in a gorgeous yellow brocade dressing-gown, lined with cherry-coloured satin, and having a crimson velvet cap, surmounted by a gold tassel, on his head.
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