. ’ ‘Damn you, I should have beaten you,’ Gerald swore, holding fast to his corner of the little square of linen. I really am enjoying it. The veins in his throat and forehead swelled and blackened; his eyes protruded from their sockets, and stared wildly; a thick damp gathered on his brow: and blood gushed from his mouth, nostrils, and ears. He threw up his hand, reeled for a moment on his feet, and collapsed upon the floor. You seemed, he thought, to have some grievance which you would not explain and which he thought must arise from a misunderstanding.
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