The effort to maintain her self-control was almost superhuman. You didn’t see me fall into a swoon when you cursed just now, did you?’ ‘I’m beginning to doubt if anything less than a sledgehammer would send you into a swoon,’ Gerald retorted. He hung over her—he and his loan to her and his connection with her and that terrible evening—a vague, disconcerting possibility of annoyance and exposure. The intensity of the eyes and the defiant tone bewildered the doctor, who found his well-constructed jeremiad without a platform.
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