‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath. ” His fingers touched hers for a moment under the ledge of the box. As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. “It is strange that we should have met Annabel,” she said. His natal burr was always in evidence when he was sentimentally affected. Wood, with a message for Lady Trafford. ” He stared at a little eddy.
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