"We work together no more. ‘Give me my pistol!’ Gerald shook his head, slipping the pistol into his pocket. She had no place she loved. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. He spoke only when he saw the sing-song girl he wanted to buy. A woman indeed this to love and be loved, beautiful, graceful, gay. Sister’s got married to that bounder Ferringhall. It was hard to meet that gaze. "Why can't I?" "You will be compromised.
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