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’ ‘Oh, don’t you?’ Gerald said grimly. He'll mend, I hope. I’m a soldier, you see. The bed-and table-linen were of the finest texture. . Capes sat down in the armchair beside her. But she could tell by the dullness of his eyes that he saw only some inner vision. Her secret thoughts made some hasty, half-hearted excursions into the possibility of telling the thing in romantic tones—Ramage was as a black villain, she as a white, fantastically white, maiden. For so far she had kept it uncashed. To her horror she realized that she had nearly forgotten how to kiss after a years-long dry spell, and she could detect drool on her own chin and John’s cheek. A few minutes later she left the house on foot, and taking a hansom at the corner of the Square, drove to Anna’s flat.
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