Jane was a smoldering auburn-haired Irish beauty who seldom spoke to anyone. Imbecile. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. It’s no half reform either. Sudden indignation boiled up in him. I am a man—of a sort of experience. “Veronica!” cried Miss Stanley, warningly, and, “Peter!” For a moment they seemed on the verge of an altogether desperate scuffle. When Mrs.
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