"And if I don't want," she murmured, "to get out——?"
He looked at her and smiled, reluctantly, as if compelled by what he saw in her.
"It's your confounded Jinniness!"
At last he had acknowledged it, her quality. He revolted against it, as a thing more provoking, more incorrigible than mere womanhood.
"It'll always tug you one way and your genius another. I'm only asking you which is likely to be stronger?"
"Do I know, George? Do you know?"
"I've told you," he said. "I think I do."
XXXIII
Three weeks later, one afternoon in October, Jane found herself going at a terrific pace through Kensington Gardens. Brodrick had sent word that he would see her at five o'clock, and it wanted but a few minutes of that hour.