With astonishment, Gerald saw a rheumy film rimming his old commander’s eyes. Automatically, she glanced at the slight red graze left on her neck that marked the point where Gerald’s sword had nicked her. She closed her eyes more vividly to recall some line which had carried the blot. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. She remembered the doctor's warning that the real battle would begin when the patient recovered consciousness. The pistol was lowered slightly. Soon the trunk, portmanteau and hat box were ready. Still he had a decent look, and decidedly the air of one well-to-do in the world. After an hour of waiting, she slammed her bedroom door and he returned to his basement.
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