He thought her so exquisitely rare that he was not above the poor, soggy
device of drinking his dinner wine from the cup of her small crimson
slipper, and she dangled on his knee like the dangerous little flame she
none too subtly purported to be, and he spanked her quickly and softly
across the wrists because she was too nervous to hold the match steadily
enough for his cigar to take light, and then kissed away all the mock
sting.
But the next morning, at the fateful four o'clock, and in spite of four
sleeping-drops, Lottie on the cot at the foot of her bed, and the night
light burning, she awoke on the crest of such a shriek that a stiletto
might have slit the silence, the end of the sheet crammed up and into
her mouth, and, ignoring all of Lottie's calming, sat up on her knees,
her streaming eyes on the jointure of wall and ceiling, where the open,
accusing ones of Gerald looked down at her. It was not that they were
terrible eyes. They were full of the sweet blue, and clear as lakes.
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