It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. One Friday afternoon, in this pleasant month, it chanced that Mr. I'll be with you in a jiffy. Wood's bed-chamber—it was locked, with the key left in it. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. My very sentences stumble and give way.
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