’ ‘As a matter of fact, it isn’t,’ conceded Gerald. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. She would marry him. “Lucy, have you noticed that I don’t even own a dog?” He spoke into her hair. . A wave of pity went over him—pity for the patient, the girl, and his friend. Her sleepless night had left her languid but not stupefied, and for an hour or so the work distracted her altogether from her troubles.
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