Then I threw a bucket of dirty water on his face and said, ‘Listen, asshole, let’s get one thing straight. ’ ‘Damn you, I should have beaten you,’ Gerald swore, holding fast to his corner of the little square of linen. . ‘It’s a pretty name. I cannot be intimate—’ stressing the word with a deep look ‘— with one I feel to be a stranger. Lord Charvill’s sense of justice would not, however, allow him to repudiate his granddaughter, if indeed this female proved to be the infant lost to the family so many years ago. He will be hanged—hanged—hanged. The next page was a drawing that she had made in pen and ink of his face, or what she had remembered of it. She had felt very uncomfortable around him, grotesque. But send me word.
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