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. Not a bad man as men go, but he would sell whisky and gin. She found she was trembling at his nearness and full of a thrilling dread that he might touch her. Gerald swore. He took some Oreos from the bottomless supply that stocked the cookie jar. This year—I’ve got it badly.
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