At length she slipped from her own bed and came over to him. He
remained rigid, his back to her. He was all but unconscious.
She put her arms round his terrifying, insentient body, and laid her
cheek against his hard shoulder.
'Gerald,' she whispered. 'Gerald.'
There was no change in him. She caught him against her. She pressed her
breasts against his shoulders, she kissed his shoulder, through the
sleeping jacket. Her mind wondered, over his rigid, unliving body. She
was bewildered, and insistent, only her will was set for him to speak
to her.
'Gerald, my dear!' she whispered, bending over him, kissing his ear.
Her warm breath playing, flying rhythmically over his ear, seemed to
relax the tension. She could feel his body gradually relaxing a little,
losing its terrifying, unnatural rigidity. Her hands clutched his
limbs, his muscles, going over him spasmodically.
The hot blood began to flow again through his veins, his limbs relaxed.
'Turn round to me,' she whispered, forlorn with insistence and triumph.
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