It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. “I think this ends the business,” he said, turning to his sister. I haven’t taken much account of it until now. Jonathan smiled contemptuously. His face was half hidden under a freshly pipeclayed sola topee—sun-helmet. “Go on!” she commanded. Please sit with me.
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