He wished he had the time to solve this riddle, for it was a riddle, and four-square besides. Edgeworth Bess wore a scarlet tabby negligée,—a sort of undress, or sack, then much in vogue,—which suited her to admiration, and upon her head had what was called a fly-cap, with richly-laced lappets. But he could only discern a black and shapeless mass, floating upon the water at a little distance, which, to his bewildered fancy, appeared absolutely standing still. What was his problem, she thought to herself. She mentioned, with familiar respect, Christ and Buddha and Shelley and Nietzsche and Plato. ‘Precisely,’ agreed Gerald. We can be friends again. Wood from pressing his suit long ago. Anna looked at her curiously, and with sinking heart.
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