Disappointment flickered in Gerald’s chest, and he did not hesitate to speak his mind, unable to help a reproachful note. " "What gives you that idea?" "Well, we could find no letter of credit, no letters, no labels in his clothes—not a single clew to his real identity. Then, very awkwardly, he took a stool and placed it at the end of Ann Veronica’s table, and sat down. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. The doctor walked over to the bed, folded his arms across his chest and stared down into the unabashed eyes of his patient.
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