Why should they be? She and Ramage were friends, very good friends. Between herself and yonder evil mind she had the strongest buckler God could give—love. As usual the substantive sister—Prudence—did all the talking for the pair; Angelina, the shadow, offered only her submitting nods. The business of serving gave Gerald a few moment’s grace, for he was dubious about the effect on an elderly female, not in the best of health, of raking up old memories. He was more like a man who had left his bed in the middle of convalescence. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. The smile had become a laugh.
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