It was as if she had come upon the beautiful marble façade of a fairy palace, was invited to enter, and behind the door—nothing. Slowly she released the hammer on the pistol, uncocking it, and Gerald became conscious that he had been holding his breath. He spoke in quick nervous sentences. Her mother informed her of the betrothal on the first painful day of her menarche, shortly after her eleventh birthday. She was suddenly very aware of the room, the television still blaring, and the chill in the air. .
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