“Forgive me,” he decided to say at last, and his voice had a little quiver of emotion, and he laid his hand on hers upon her knee. Disappointment flickered in Gerald’s chest, and he did not hesitate to speak his mind, unable to help a reproachful note. "Heaven be praised, I am not the son of a nobleman. The one I have is a duplicate. And I'll have supper with you. "You were saying—?" "I started to say something; that is all. Just go about with him. He turned irresolutely to the table upon which lay the scattered leaves of his old manuscripts.
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