” “I sent a telegram to say I was all right. "I was just going," said Thames. ’ ‘Perhaps you don’t, Hilary,’ Gerald said mildly, smiling at the young lady and indicating one of the wide window seats. Men do not understand constancy as women do. The present divinity of the cellar was a comely middle-aged dame, almost as stout, and quite as shrill-voiced, as the Billingsgate fish-wives above-mentioned, Mrs. Ashen blonde, a shade that would never excite the cynical commentary which men applied to certain types of blondes. Her hair had begun to grow back, it now swept to her shoulders. ‘You’ve cause to be grateful to Gerald, then. The struggle had dislodged the white wimple, which was evidently too large for her, and her black hair broke free, whirling like a whiplash about her head as her hands curled into fists, coming up to beat at his chest, her little teeth bared for attack. If the boy had done anything wrong back there in the States, his would be the brand of conscience to pay him out in full.
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