Now let us forget it. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. And catching hold of Thames, he quitted the deck. Jack submitted to this scrutiny with a very bad grace, and vehemently protested his innocence. If you know her for the vicious, scheming wretch that she is, why in God’s name—?’ ‘She’s not a vicious, scheming wretch,’ Gerald said calmly. Her bonnet dropped off and was trampled into the gutter. You can’t possibly understand!” He began a confused explanation, a perplexing contradictory apology for his urgency and wrath.
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