Reluctantly she found him beguiling after he had eaten. Even now he was not at all sure that she was not playing with him. At sight of his wan features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled coverlet. She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her. The act was mechanical, a bit of sparring for time: his anger was searching about for a new vent. He is in the secret passage.
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