“Round midnight, I think. Sir John filled his glass with trembling hand. “Would you wait for me?” Manning was silent for a space. “Damned Rascal!” he said. Perhaps it had been pick-pocketed or jostled from her dress in a hunt. Kneebone, who began to feel sleepy, wound it up, and snuffed the candles. ‘Eh bien?’ She thrust again, from the same place. The quarry had passed out into the open sea. ‘That—that—why do you speak of him?’ ‘Because I feel you ought to know,’ Gerald said calmly, but rising and watching her closely, ‘that all your trouble may be in vain. ” “It certainly was,” she admitted. Then she slowly straightened, releasing him. She felt privileged above other women at parties, where she was on display as all the duchesses and queens looked upon her with envy as he was so clearly entranced by her in every way. For if Gerald had indeed gone to see this Prudence, it was better to wait for his report.
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