“Of seeing everything that’s most sacred in life mauled over in public—of being mauled over myself as though I was something marked down on a bargain-counter—of finding out that all men are so—so disgusting and degradingly alike!”
It seemed to take time for Gerry to digest this. And even with time the process appeared to be unattended by any great degree of satisfaction.
“Haven’t I been doing what I could for you?” he demanded, with the air of a man who asked only for reason.
“Are you worrying about your fee?” countered the pale-cheeked Teddie.
“I don’t want a fee,” said Gerry.
“Then what is it you want?”
Gerry tried to square his shoulders.
“I want you!”
She met his eye, but it took an effort. And Gerry, for the life of him, couldn’t help thinking once more of the milk-snake in the chocolate-box.
“How about my wishes in the matter?” she asked with a slow and pointed emphasis which brought a wince to even Gunboat Dorgan’s Celtic eyes.