She thought gleefully of the dress she would get to wear for the Ball (Prom?) and could not wait to tell her foster family about how excited she was. They were the same. “I cannot but conclude,” he said, “that your errand involved the recital to my wife of some trouble in which you find yourself. In the pause a door could be heard opening and closing on the landing up-stairs. I think she might be up to something. I’m not Gerald, remember. ’ She closed her mind on the possibility of finding out, and went on, ‘But me, I have been in a war, and I have won. I’m a Socialist, Miss Stanley. ‘Who’s this, then? Not soldiers again. Her eyes were lit with smouldering passion. “What do you mean, hanging round with my wife?” he answered fiercely. .
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