It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. Gerald went through all the papers in front of Gosse and that woman of his, one by one. He looked at Annabel, whose face was buried in her hands— he looked back at Anna, who was regarding him with an easy composure which secretly irritated him. The cause of this uproar was soon manifest. She opened one and found herself in a large untidy room set with chairs that were a little disarranged as if by an overnight meeting. There was nothing left now of the selfassured, prosperous man of affairs. . ” There was a moment’s silence. \" \"All right. Courtlaw stood up. See how he gets on, father," he added, appealing to Wood: "the box seems to grow under his hands.
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