He did not so much cut into this conversation as loom over it, for he was a tall, if rather studiously stooping, man. A lean young man in spectacles pursued her for some time, crying “Courage! Courage!” Somebody threw a dab of mud at her, and some of it got down her neck. ‘I’m only surprised you have not released yourself. You didn’t see me fall into a swoon when you cursed just now, did you?’ ‘I’m beginning to doubt if anything less than a sledgehammer would send you into a swoon,’ Gerald retorted.
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