In
her tone, she made the understanding clear--they were of the same kind,
he and she, a sort of diabolic freemasonry subsisted between them.
Henceforward, she knew, she had her power over him. Wherever they met,
they would be secretly associated. And he would be helpless in the
association with her. Her soul exulted.
'Good-bye! I'm so glad you forgive me. Gooood-bye!'
Hermione sang her farewell, and waved her hand. Gerald automatically
took the oar and pushed off. But he was looking all the time, with a
glimmering, subtly-smiling admiration in his eyes, at Gudrun, who stood
on the shoal shaking the wet book in her hand. She turned away and
ignored the receding boat. But Gerald looked back as he rowed,
beholding her, forgetting what he was doing.
'Aren't we going too much to the left?' sang Hermione, as she sat
ignored under her coloured parasol.
Gerald looked round without replying, the oars balanced and glancing in
the sun.
'I think it's all right,' he said good-humouredly, beginning to row
again without thinking of what he was doing.
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