For hours he seemed to have pleasant dreams of open skies and airplanes, but then the dreams would disintegrate into fleshy charnel house nightmares where he could hear her calling to him through a fog. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. He was a man who in all things classified without nuance, and for him there were in the matter of age just two feminine classes and no more—girls and women. Disappointment flickered in Gerald’s chest, and he did not hesitate to speak his mind, unable to help a reproachful note. Hastening along the passage he came to the sixth door. "Oh, yes!—for always!" He took her hands and pressed them upon his thrumming heart; and in this attitude they remained for some time. Besides, you cannot visit people armed with a pistol in London, you know. ‘You can’t prove nothing.
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