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I was once a disciple of Saint Peter myself, and speak from experience. 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 appearance of the new-comer was extremely prepossessing; and, after his trepidation had a little subsided, Wood began to regard him with some degree of interest. ‘Seems to me like you know just about as much as me. Why don’t you wait and see if you do truly love me, then I can believe you? Then I know I am worth waiting for.
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