"Speak plainly. She could not say a word, much less move. These were presently joined by a regiment of foot. " "I shouldn't call her queer. ‘No, my poor guardian,’ Gerald mocked. The blinds were all drawn, the sunlight kept out, one could not tell what colors these gray swathings hid. “I wonder,” he said, “how you would like to be made love to—boldly or timorously or sentimentally. There was a hint of tears in her voice. His tone changed, becoming a little more moderate. "Rowland, your violence is killing me," she returned, in a plaintive tone. “Kindly explain it to me.
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