It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. The bridge was open. The action steadied him; and there was a phase of irony, too, that helped. " "It's no use going to bed," answered Rachel. I haven't forgotten her previous history. "Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time.
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