” There was genuine interest in her eyes now. ‘My dear boy, your loyalty is misplaced. ‘Her own,’ Gerald replied. By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. . “It was your own fault,” she exclaimed. What isn’t a day-dream is this: that you and I are going to put an end to flummery—and go!” “Go!” said Ann Veronica, clenching her hands. London Bridge had suffered a degree less than most places.
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