Not for the first time, she found a kernel of resentment toward Rand. He had done this to her—all right, she had helped him, instigated the doing, in fact, but that was beside the point—he had done this and walked away with a smug grin on his face. She doubted his grin had really been smug, but she could picture it all too easily. Let him dart from giddy to weepy every other hour and see how he liked it! I can’t think in a straight line, she thought irritably. That was his fault, too.
