’ Gerald tutted. ’ She was backing across the room, moving towards the screen. He fancied that the whole fabric of the bridge was cracking over head,—that the arch was tumbling upon him,—that the torrent was swelling around him, whirling him off, and about to bury him in the deafening abyss. “No, I am alone,” she answered. When they made love, he seemed to shift into the realm of possessiveness.
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