” He spoke loudly. The light was poor, so that she saw their gleaming faces dimly and indistinctly. She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her. ’ ‘Uh-oh,’ came from her infuriating suitor and his eyes dropped to the weapon she was dragging from the holster under her petticoat. Or did he? Perhaps he had found another. She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. And if you mean that he may have reconciled himself with his own father, you waste your breath.
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