Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. " But the doctor softened the refusal by smiling. I mean I’m not a good specimen of a woman. An uncomfortable silence followed. Hopefully. So far she had not heard the sound of his voice. Gerald studied the darkness beyond the aperture. Supposing that was it; at least, a solution to part of this amazing riddle? Supposing her father had made her assist him in the care of the derelicts solely to fill her with loathing and abhorrence for mankind? "Didn't you despise the men your father brought home—the beachcombers?" "No. As long as your son observes that precept I'll befriend him, but no longer.
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