Befuddle yourself, if you want to. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. He began a jerky, broken conversation that lasted until they reached the station, and left her puzzled at its drift and meaning. “I am afraid,” she said, “that he must have a skeleton key to these rooms. ‘Bête!’ Gerald caught her hand as she pulled it back to deliver another blow.
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