There he paused again, half turning his back and pretending to look for someone among the soldiers on the benches. “Let us put the lamp out,” she said; “the flames are ever so much better for talking,” and Ann Veronica agreed. The taste of his sweat was intoxicating, like sweet brandy, like blood. “Surely!” he remarked, with an expression of worried appeal. You will only make me hurt you the more. And the fact that it was dressed in riding gear had fooled her into thinking it was her own image. ’ Gerald laughed. " "To make him forget the knock?" "Precisely. Jackson, I could almost fancy we had met before.
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