Pain sliced into Gerald’s hand and his sword arm jerked. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you so badly,’ he said, still meeting her eyes, unaware that his hold about her hand had tightened a little. ’ ‘And I love the way you call me imbecile,’ finished Gerald. Nevertheless there came a residuum of expostulations. But, no. Love is one thing and friendship quite another. The modern parts of the book were inspired by my worldview of high school as pure, unadulterated Hell. It penetrated the skin; benumbed the flesh; paralysed the faculties. I found it on the beach, just sitting there nestled inside a piece of driftwood. At any rate he made it very clear that night that there was an ineradicable discord in life, a jarring something that must shatter all her dreams of a way of living for women that would enable them to be free and spacious and friendly with men, and that was the passionate predisposition of men to believe that the love of women can be earned and won and controlled and compelled. She would not be driven in by this persistent, sneaking aggression. Did he act to you that day as if he knew what he was doing?" "Not all of the time.
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