“I am going to America. Part 7 That was two days before Christmas Eve. Why else?’ Gerald stared at her blankly. She thought of her father in the garden, and of her aunt with her Patience, as she had seen them—how many ages was it ago? Just one day intervened. We dine at seven-thirty. He was a good foster dad that had never so much as leered at her, not even once. Some day I may forgive you; but not now. The girl was flushed with excitement, bright-eyed, and braced for a struggle; her aunt had never seen her looking so fine or so pretty. It appears that he was an unsuccessful admirer of the lady in question, and he admits that, under the influence of drink, he broke into her rooms, and there made a determined attempt at suicide. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. ‘—and what do I do? Well, we know what I do.
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