Aren’t I asking—asking plainly now?. I thought Mr. . . If you forget your sex, jade, I must forget mine. ” And while he talked and watched her as he talked, she answered, and behind her listening watched and thought about him. You should have more. You didn’t see me fall into a swoon when you cursed just now, did you?’ ‘I’m beginning to doubt if anything less than a sledgehammer would send you into a swoon,’ Gerald retorted. She dropped beside the chair, sat cross-legged, and laughed at the futile jade-coloured wall. A smile trembled at the corners of her mouth as she recalled Gerald’s ridiculous upbraiding of his own reflection in the mirror. There was, it might be said, a double illumination. The time was the 26th of November, 1703: the place, the Mint in Southwark. “I was sick of the make-believe.
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