Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes. He was now within a foot of the bar, and introducing himself into the hole, speedily worked his way to it. Reaction set in and she leapt at him, beating at his chest with her fists. Only sat, staring at him, a puzzled look in her face.
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