As he lay on his back, he fancied himself gradually slipping off the platform. The business of serving gave Gerald a few moment’s grace, for he was dubious about the effect on an elderly female, not in the best of health, of raking up old memories. She found her foster father and Mike still awake, playing high stakes UNO at the dimly lit kitchen table. Nothing, in short, portable or valuable was left. “Just like old times,” she thought sardonically. “Oh, it is okay. His struggles were so violent, that, being a man of tremendous strength, it was some time before they could master him, and it required the combined efforts of all the four partners to put him into irons. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility.
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