Finger to his lips, Gerald pointed in the direction of the noise. He was never drunk in the accepted meaning of the word; rather he walked in a kind of stupefaction. “Perhaps,” he said, “I have been to blame. You are captain of your soul; don't forget your Henley. ” He retorted smartly, looking at her with mischief. Swiftly he looked back to Melusine and found she had whisked to the window, dragging a pocket handkerchief from her sleeve and hastily blowing her nose.
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