She sat slowly unlacing her shoes, and he too commenced to undress. Thank God that crisis was over. She felt almost fond of him now, almost in love with him.
“Ah, Gerald,” she laughed, caressively, teasingly, “Ah, what a fine game you played with the Professor’s daughter—didn’t you now?”
“What game?” he asked, looking round.
“Isn’t she in love with you—oh dear, isn’t she in love with you!” said Gudrun, in her gayest, most attractive mood.
“I shouldn’t think so,” he said.
“Shouldn’t think so!” she teased. “Why the poor girl is lying at this moment overwhelmed, dying with love for you. She thinks you’re wonderful_—oh marvellous, beyond what man has ever been. _really, isn’t it funny?”
“Why funny, what is funny?” he asked.
“Why to see you working it on her,” she said, with a