Kimble was clearly a plain-spoken fellow. But did Gerald trouble himself about her? No. All that confidence, born of irony, disappeared; and fear laid hold of him. She ought to have leapt back on guard. Soot was everywhere, for the lamp would not stay trimmed in the gale. “It’s like this,” he said, and dragged a stool beside her and sat down with his elbow four inches from hers and made a sketch. Aware of the footman hovering, and the hackney coachman’s curious eyes looking down from his box, Gerald leaned a little towards her and spoke in a lowered tone. “We don’t want things to happen!” Never had he shown his daughter so clearly that the womenkind he was persuaded he had to protect and control could please him in one way, and in one way only, and that was by doing nothing except the punctual domestic duties and being nothing except restful appearances. She washed her face twice after making smudgy eyeshadow and lipstick errors.
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