Gerald raised his cockaded hat, and smiled. It was below consciousness, elusive; so he sent out a call to his friend, defensively. There was still the pity of understanding in Ruth's eyes. I haven't much money; I don't know how much it is going to cost me to reach Hartford; so I fixed over a couple of my mother's dresses. For a time he would be the grim Protestant Flagellant, pursuing the idea of self-castigation. He touched it again, and this time it was not withdrawn. On searching the coat, he found, amongst other matters, a mask, a key, and a pocket-book.
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