Still, something had marked the face, something had left an indelible touch. . And the fact that it was dressed in riding gear had fooled her into thinking it was her own image. ‘Must be another of her lies. ’ Gerald stood back, and watched her cross the room to the closed French doors. Deep verandas ran around the bungalows, with bamboo drops which were always down in the daytime, fending off the treacherous sunshine. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. I spent this afternoon in detention.
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