‘Now then, missie. “Don’t!” she said, weakly, as he had bent down and put one arm about her and seized her hands with his disengaged hand and kissed her—kissed her almost upon her lips. His hat was placed upon one pole, his wig on another. I can’t even make myself care. She grasped at the right one, massaging where his grip had been and Gerald hoped he had not bruised her. Strange, demure-looking young woman, with wonderful complexion and eyes, and a style about her, too.
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