“What is the good of pretending?” she said. Kneebone's. "I am. . Have you brought me a message from my sister? I understood, I believe, that she was seeing you last night. ‘Her own,’ Gerald replied. For a stunned moment, Emile did not speak. The effort of self-repression cost him a sob. Love—admiration for your matchless beauty alone sways me. She laughed a little bitterly.
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