But it is my fault. The Red Room. ” Capes looked at his wife’s unsmiling face. . Cut to pieces —slashed—bloodied. ’ ‘I would have done, only you threatened to blow off my head,’ Gerald reminded her, laughing. At any rate, here I am, and here I shall be, twenty thousand feet above all your poison-reeking cities, up where God’s wind comes fresh from heaven, very near indeed to the untrodden snows. At this point Lucy, in an effort perhaps—foolhardy, in Gerald’s opinion—to pour oil on troubled waters, rose swiftly to her feet and came towards the old man, her hand held out. His noble Florentine roots went back a thousand years, to the days of grand Rome herself. And always they were well satisfied. “This is mere nonsense, mere tongue-tied fear!” she said. We have only those phantoms called memories, which are the husks of dreams.
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