"Woman, your wits are fled!" And so it seemed; for all the answer she could make was to murmur distractedly, "I can't find the key. “I hope,” Annabel answered lazily, “that you have succeeded. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. Wanted her out of the way because he had been afraid of her, afraid of himself! He, at fifty-four! Then into this void poured a flaming anger, a blind and unreasoning anger. ” “No, I don’t. He returned, sitting on the floor beside the couch adoring her and stroking her bare arms. That a longing of hers should be realized in this strange fashion was difficult to believe: it vaguely suggested something of a trap.
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