Outside the post-office stood a nohatted, blond young man in gray flannels, who was elaborately affixing a stamp to a letter. The two sisters were very fond of one another, I believe. “What have you been doing since our last talk? Still cutting up rabbits and probing into things? I’ve often thought of that talk of ours—often. You were content, and I came to thrive on your happiness. ” Inwardly, she laughed at the idea of him trying to beat on her, flailing, his arms akimbo. Well, after a time there came a fever in my blood. She turned there and beckoned. ‘Don’t even think of it,’ warned Gerald, in the voice generally reserved for his men.
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