She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her. The effort to maintain her self-control was almost superhuman. She had flung away from her father’s support with the finest assumption of personal independence. A group of ten began emerging outside the ticket area. Her cheeks seemed to burn, her veins ran riot, and her heart was beating so fast that she was sure he must feel it through his scarlet coat. He grunted a little with effort, and she realised the gilt frame must be heavy. “I feel justified then,” he said, “in annexing his chair. “Home, of course,” she answered.
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