‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. It arises, I think, from an over developed sense of humour. And what did she do? Not only did she cut his hand in her rage, but she refused to let him help her, and then she ran away from him. “Is that you, Nigel?” she asked. The smell of gunpowder was strong in the room. He went over her features one by one in his mind.
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