“What’s that for?” He said. "Heaven be praised, I am not the son of a nobleman. A sophisticated woman would have translated the tone as a caress. She drifted, via Theobald’s Road, obliquely toward the region about Titchfield Street. Gerald at once lowered his voice to that intimate level again, and leaned towards her. Every eye seemed focussed upon her; and yet she had known the sensation to be the conceit of her imagination. ’ Then she ran swiftly out of the library, calling out as her cavalier was almost at the front door. ” “Okay.
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