‘What in God’s name do you think you’re playing at?’ ‘Let me alone, man,’ Gerald muttered under his breath. “To-night we are as we have always been. You might trust me with the Chevalier himself,—I'd never betray him. Then she looked at her aunt, and traced with a curious eye the careful arrangement of her hair, her sharp nose, the little drooping lines of mouth and chin and cheek. The pole-chair caravan resumed its journey.
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