He was braver than her husband, who paced and cowered in the corners of the once-sunny Palazzo. He thought, too, of the fretful invalid who lay in the next room to his, whose money had created his business and made his position in the world. John knew everybody, it seemed. There were a few loose, broken fragments of rock to reckon with upon the ledges, and one place where hands did as much work as toes. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. It’s true. Gerald’s gaze bored into hers. She rose to the fire to stoke it. .
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