“You have forgotten. She had a feeling as though something had dropped from her eyes, as though she had just discovered herself for the first time—discovered herself as a sleepwalker might do, abruptly among dangers, hindrances, and perplexities, on the verge of a cardinal crisis. She is like some character out of Phra the Phoenician: she's been buried for thirty years and just been excavated. Her features were meagre, and ghastly white, and had the fixed and horrible stamp of insanity. It would be too mortifying. “My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. “Don’t you think I ought to?” she asked, very submissively. ‘We?’ Gerald smiled. For just as though a vague likeness is sometimes borne swiftly in upon one, so a vague dissimilarity between the face on the poster and the heroine of his thoughts had slowly crept into his consciousness. Here they remained till midnight when, calling for their reckoning and their steeds, they left the house.
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