Gerald guessed she was biting her tongue on an explosive retort as she eyed him. I know something about men. It's gin—a liquor you used to like. He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. She stepped back quickly, and her hand knocked a wine-glass from the table to smash noisily on the floor. 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 says she will have to, though she does not wish to.
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