He seemed inexorable, and inscrutable as fate itself. The man had favoured him with a brief nod, but the girl had gone so far as to offer a tiny smile, and a look under her lashes with which not even Gerald, for all his scant interest in female society, could fail to be familiar. I was always told my mother died the day I was born. She was civil, but she was obviously impatient to know his errand. “Who is the tenant of these rooms?” he inquired. The petals have fallen—the red petals we loved so. She took up a book and threw it down again.
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