She saw now that it was not a dissipated face; it was as smooth and unlined as polished marble, which at present it resembled. From beginning to end it was first-hand stuff. “Will you tell Sydney that I will see him in the morning,” he said. ‘What do you mean?’ Gerald grinned. “Women know these things by instinct,” she answered. “Who from?” She met his eye for a second and her heart failed her. Cheveney was looking after her, I think, then. Marvel held her handkerchief to her eyes, and appeared in great distress. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. She could hear the bell tinkle as the horse shook its head. To the practised eye of the waterman matters wore a very different air.
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