‘I beg your pardon?’ said Gerald. I wonder what men would say if we threw the mask aside—if we really told them what WE thought of them, really showed them what WE were. The horns were the worst, slipping in and out of tune and rushing the easy sections, fighting everyone else. ‘But what way, Emile?’ ‘Your family, mademoiselle, the family of your father. ‘Knowed it the instant I set eyes on her. I——” The door was thrown open. He was always word-building, a metaphorist, lavish with singing adjectives; but often he built in confusion because it was difficult to describe something beautiful in a new yet simple way.
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