Upon what this instinct was based she could not say; she was conscious only of its insistence. The white veil had fallen to the ground and Gerald retrieved it for her. Anna was still holding her cigarette between her fingers. For the present, he murmured his farewells, and turning, caught Hilary’s eye and walked away, crossing the ballroom to move into the less opulent, and less crowded, saloon next door where servants were dispensing refreshments. He wondered if the young fool had any idea of what he had drawn in this tragic lottery called marriage. She released her clutch on it as, dizzy with exhaustion, she leaned against the back of the pew and closed her eyes, her fingers grasping out automatically for support.
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