She went up-stairs and hesitated between four doors with ground-glass panes, each of which professed “The Women’s Bond of Freedom” in neat black letters. ‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath. The Wastrel did not relish this. But some little distance behind him, someone had come out from the shadow of the building and, seeing the Frenchman reappear, darted back again as quickly. Huge trees obscured the view of it. Little by little, she stopped hating him. He found the door ajar, and, to his surprise, perceived little Winifred seated at a table, busily engaged in tracing some design upon a sheet of paper. ” She relented. With people of that sort all sorts of things may happen. She slipped into bed and struggled to stay awake until she heard Cathy and Larry 14 stirring.
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