And now she was discovering that even Nature was something of a liar, with her mirages and her horizons. These things illuminated her situation extremely. Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. The silence grew unbearable, so she asked, \"What is your surname, John?\" \"My surname? You mean my last name?\" \"Yes. "I am Owen Wood, at your service. If you love me, do not allude to this subject again. . Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. ’ ‘Lord,’ Gerald murmured, awed more by the outspokenness of his hostess than by what she had said.
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