His invalid wife and her money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. After the first courses however she scarcely noticed him. "Took a great fancy to you. ‘You don’t mean to say she’s here?’ ‘Was,’ Gerald corrected. The sun-canvas was stowed; and Spurlock's chair was set forward the foremast, where the bulging jib cast a sliding blue shadow over him. That was the only sound he heard. Listen.
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