If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. When the paroxysm passed, he was forced to lean against the window-jamb for support. Why can’t you let it be?’ Gerald grinned at him. ‘Your wife?’ ‘My wife,’ he repeated, rising also, his smile mocking her. ‘Exactement. The lines about his mouth gradually softened.
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