’ ‘Undoubtedly,’ Gerald agreed. It was an excuse, dredged up on the spur of the moment to cover a slip. His voice had changed, the joy had gone out of it; and she understood that something from the past had rolled up to spoil this hour. This is part of a dream— some evil fancy. And I've already told you the accident was not Jack's fault. She dragged the broken bottle across her carotid artery, creating an inch-deep gash upon her throat. He ignored her protests in order to pursue some impressive line of his own. Spurlock sat limply, his arms hanging.
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