She put her mouth on him. The picture in her mind altered and she saw again the way Gerald had looked with consternation upon the bruises he had inflicted on her wrist. Sometimes the music would be tender and dreamy, like a native mother's crooning to her young; sometimes it would be so gay that the flesh tingled and the feet were urged to dance; again, it would be like the storms crashing, thunderous. It was the crowned queen of mountains in her robes of shining white. ‘I do not wish to hear any more reasons so foolish, so do not trouble to think of them. “Are you speaking to me?” she asked calmly.
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