Dizzily, she grabbed at the mantel for support and, resting her head on her hands, paid no heed to a betraying sound behind her—until an unexpected arm encircled her. Slowly she released the hammer on the pistol, uncocking it, and Gerald became conscious that he had been holding his breath. He is steeped in the conventions. The spinster saw herself growing warm again in the morning sunshine of youth —a flaring ember before the hearth grew cold. They came teeming distressfully through her aching brain: “A man can kick, his skirts don’t tear; A man scores always, everywhere. ‘There’s a surgeon on his way, and my men are under orders to do whatever is needful.
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