Why do you not go away?’ ‘Yes, do go away,’ begged Gerald. . See!" she added, tearing the rag from her head,—"I had beautiful black hair once. " She kindled with sympathy. His noble Florentine roots went back a thousand years, to the days of grand Rome herself. . The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. Opening her large black eyes, she fixed them upon him for a moment with a mixture of terror and loathing, and then averted her gaze.
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