Winifred listened to his narration with the profoundest attention; and, when it concluded, her tearful eye and throbbing bosom told how deeply her feelings had been interested. Having accomplished his intent, Gerald let the lad go and had himself driven back to Stratton Street. The room was reeling, or was it that she was going to faint? She recovered herself with a supreme effort. Les Misérables, A Tale of Two Cities, Henry Esmond, The Last Days of Pompeii, The Marble Faun … Love stories! Until her arrival in Singapore, she had never read a novel. Now go. ‘Dolt! Muttonheaded oaf! Why the deuce couldn’t he have sent you home?’ Valade cut in at that.
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