‘Oh no, you don’t,’ said Gerald in a low tone. Rhea spun round and sank her teeth into Lucy’s arm. She felt a lump rise in her throat, for she had come to love living in America. "Dying, Sir Rowland. A new inexplicable madness that urged him to shrill ironically the story of his coat—to take it off and fling it at the feet of any stranger who chanced to be nigh. She had been careless. He pressed the bloody wrist into her mouth, and she though she could not feel it or 72 control it, she knew she was being made to swallow.
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