At the present moment she was living in a world of her own creation, a carnival of brave men and fair women, characters out of the tales she had so newly read for the first time. She appeared not to have realised the implications of her outburst, but clung a little to Gerald’s hands which had taken hers in a comforting clasp. He wasn't quite hard enough to win worldly success; that was his fault. She will cry for days and nights together. She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor. . He’s nice. But, by Jove! you are fierce! You are like those Roman women who carry stilettos in their hair. She loved to walk through the gardens, graced with columns that loomed overhead.
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