"Flight is still left me," replied Trenchard. Gerald lost his head. She looked round wildly, as if seeking some source of help, as the boots halted at the front door and the shouting intensified. He looked at her guiltily. He stopped, panting hard, slamming his cane to the floor to make use of its much-needed support. The youth produced a crumpled-up card from his waistcoat pocket. I suppose if one were to love some one, one would feel doubtful. He entered the room with his usual deliberation, and looked covertly about him. This is not the conduct of a jeune demoiselle.
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