The weather harmonized with their feelings. Chapter Seven ‘Oh, my God,’ burst from Gerald. She gathered stones to place upon the makeshift grave. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse. You seemed, he thought, to have some grievance which you would not explain and which he thought must arise from a misunderstanding. All his dreams shattered in an instant. .
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