“I think,” she said, “that I rather like what you have said. ” “Why did you tell me? I thought—I thought we were going to be friends. Wood, and you'll find that I've spoken the truth. ’ Exasperated, Gerald glared at her. Which were perfectly true, as Gerald was aware. The thought did not occur to her, for all thought had flown out of her head. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. Considering how little he lets her have.
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