Manning loomed up ever and again into her world, full of a futile solicitude, and almost always declaring she was splendid, splendid, and wishing he could talk things out with her. "I could almost forgive the wretch the injury he did me in depriving me of my poor dear wife—No, not quite that," he added, a little confused. To walk beside him, dressed akin to him, rucksacked and companionable, was bliss in itself; each step she took was like stepping once more across the threshold of heaven. “Mr. ’ ‘No, perhaps not,’ Gerald agreed with a smile. She drank and drank until his body was a lifeless husk, as light as a mannequin, virtually hollow of all but the fluid in his bones. This is grace I am saying! Oh! my dear! all the joy and weeping of life are mixed in me now and all the gratitude. ‘I am not a person, Marthe.
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