His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Gerald. He handed her a cheque for thirty-one pounds, ten shillings, and read the agreement through to her. But I shall lose my wager if I stay a moment longer—so here goes. Only one thing emerged with any reasonable clarity in her mind at once, and that was that unless she was saved from drowning by an unmarried man, in which case the ceremony is unavoidable, or totally destitute of under-clothing, and so driven to get a trousseau, in which hardship a trousseau would certainly be “ripping,” marriage was an experience to be strenuously evaded. The release was so great that she felt tears spring from her eyes. “Do you mind if I tweeze your eyebrows?” Shari asked her.
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