A gust of irrational impatience blew through her being. “What is a ballot-box like, exactly?” she asked, as though it was very important to her. She was fiercely and bitterly jealous. For the first time he seemed to wonder what it might be that she had to confess. It was all highly intriguing. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. . ’ Much to Melusine’s chagrin, Gerald folded his arms and leaned back, as if wholly at his ease. “My Mom was a good lady. And they had an idea of what men were like behind all their nicety.
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