Gerald’s gaze bored into hers. “I didn’t blow up the house. Jack Kimble stiffened, looking at his interrogator with wary anger in his face. Stanley came home at a quarter to six—an earlier train by fifteen minutes than he affected—his sister met him in the hall with a hushed expression. Martin’s eyes seemed about to pop out of his head. She had never dreamed of such decadence, never imagined that young people could be so happy and healthy. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. “Good evening, Dorling,” he said. She laughed a little contemptuously. I wanted to speak to you first. "I must go.
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