“Won’t you give me your address?” She shook her head. " "Back!" cried Rowland. Cloud back of your hat!" He opened his eyes again. She ought to have been disposed to faint and scream at all these happenings; she ought to have maintained a front of outraged dignity to veil the sinking of her heart. A curious silence ensued. ‘Oh, Jacques, I cannot forgive myself!’ ‘Never you fret, miss,’ he uttered at once in a faint voice. She turned back to Gerald, holding out her hand.
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