Loving was self-forgetfulness, pure delighting in another human being. God must love me, for he has guided me here. Still he looked hale and hearty, and the country life he led had imparted a ruddier glow to his cheek. ” “But you thought you could forget him. The air was thick with feelings. Monsieur Valade heaved a gusty sigh, and Gerald, with heavy diplomacy and a forced heartiness of manner, turned the subject. There was nothing to be learned from her face. ” “No. As he balanced the photograph, a humorous twinkle came into his eyes.
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