’ ‘Why not?’ Gerald asked straightly. It was only when they came into a square that daylight had a positive quality. He could not see these two shrinking misses capering about in a nun’s habit and brandishing a defiant pistol. ‘Truth is, it’s Gerald who’s put me in the devil’s own temper, ma’am. “Why—it’s—it’s you!” Amazement seemed to dry up the torrents of his speech. It was scarcely likely that she would have accepted his aid. She read beautifully because the fixed form of the poem signified nothing.
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