’ ‘Damn you, I should have beaten you,’ Gerald swore, holding fast to his corner of the little square of linen. She must not tell Martha about Gerald. Her father, her own father! She remembered now a verse from the Psalms her father had always been quoting; but now she recited it with perfect understanding. Her eye wandered quickly over that riotous and disorderly assemblage, until it settled upon one group more riotous and disorderly than the rest, of which her son formed the principal figure. The man was mad to marry me. “One doesn’t want to turn the whole thing into a mere sex antagonism. She still kicked herself for it.
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