’ The expression on Emile Gosse’s face was vicious under the smile. Could she understand what she was talking about? Luckily it was a second-class carriage and the ordinary fellowtravellers were not there. “Why? Do you think I’m a stoner?” He asked. All that confidence, born of irony, disappeared; and fear laid hold of him. Gerald went through all the papers in front of Gosse and that woman of his, one by one. Then Ramage appeared with effusion, and ushered her into his inner apartment. He rose at once to his feet and turned a white face upon her. Many little things had contributed to that decision. “I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words.
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