’ ‘What for?’ asked Gerald, half laughing, as he put his hand in his pocket and brought out his elegant pistol. "I could not make him understand. She was vehemently impatient—she did not clearly know for what—to do, to be, to experience. "What in the world is it?" he asked. Odd, but he had never thought of the beach until this girl (who looked as if she had stepped out of the family album) referred to it with a familiarity which was as astonishing as it was profoundly sad. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. And I think also that Gosse—I mean that one who calls himself Valade—stole it.
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