. ’ Triumph soared in Gerald’s chest. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours. One cannot successfully argue with a drunken man. Her father intercepted her, and for a moment she and he struggled with their hands upon the latch. He feared to antagonize that distinguished person. During this dreadful pause the wretched man felt for his sword. It seemed at first the most beautiful afternoon of all time to her, and perhaps the thrill of her excitement did add a distinctive and culminating keenness to the day.
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