The latter looked very pale, either from the effect of his wound, which was not yet entirely healed, or from suppressed emotion,—partly, perhaps, from both causes,—and wore his left arm in a sling. She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her. “I want to know who you are. That's the way she strikes me. ” “Your ideas of fairness—” he remarked, and discontinued that sentence. But you belong to me—and I want you. Caliban, who, through the interest of Mr.
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