He was always anticipating, stepping into the future, torturing himself with non-existent troubles. “I propose,” Sir John said, “that we pay for our dinner—which we haven’t had— tip the garçon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz. Supposing they find you and take you away?—and she unprepared? Have you thought of that? Why did you marry her?" "God alone knows!" "And you don't love her! What kind of a woman do you want, anyhow?"—with rising anger. " "You have no son," rejoined Sir Rowland, moodily. ’ Gerald stood back, and watched her cross the room to the closed French doors. You must wait till supper's over.
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