A strong arm pulled her closer, and the lips that mouthed her own in tender touches sent her senses reeling. ’ Obediently, Gerald rose and walked to the other end of the parlour. You didn’t see me fall into a swoon when you cursed just now, did you?’ ‘I’m beginning to doubt if anything less than a sledgehammer would send you into a swoon,’ Gerald retorted. It was cheating, pitiful cheating. ‘Who has begun this but you?’ Gerald barely heard her. The idea of Ruth as a talisman against misfortune—which he now recognized as a sick man's idea— faded as his appreciation of the absurd reasserted itself. I have never been wrong about the sex of an unborn child.
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