’ ‘Yes, but I’m afraid I am far too interested to stop mixing myself in your affairs,’ Gerald said ruefully. She was sore and overstrung, and it was intolerable to her that he should stand within three yards of her unsuspectingly, with an incalculably vast power over her happiness. And grasping the thick iron rod, she pushed with all her force against it, while Jack seconded her efforts from within. Hang the wench! Roding was right. They leave them out of novels—these incompatibilities.
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