“They died within a few months of one another. ‘Gérard!’ ‘Yes, it’s I,’ he said, and grinned. The eyes, too, though large and bright, and shaded by long lashes, seemed to betoken, as hazel eyes generally do in men, a faithless and uncertain disposition. She hid behind a mirage of piety, just as I do. ’ ‘He did, you know,’ grinned Gerald. ‘Would you like me to enquire for your mystery lady, Gerald? I know the Comte and Comtesse de St Erme quite well. Sanguine they were not. In the meanwhile, as he talked, he scrutinized her face, ran his eyes over her careless, gracious poise, wondered hard about her. His father spoke for him. The times were such that, with the opinions he entertained, he could not remain idle. Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco.
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