He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere. He looked at her in some embarrassment. Her aunt, a faded, anæmic-looking lady of somewhat too obtrusive gentility, was still sitting with her hand pressed to her heart. Here we are absconding, pretending to be what we are not; shady, to say the least of it. “I confess it. Sheppard, passionately,—"he has my boundless gratitude, and devotion. It was the same Bios whose nature and drift and ways and methods and aspects engaged them all. “You’ve got to take the decent reasonable way. . . Surely it was a dream. He hated the taste of it. He turned the wheel carefully as he touched her neck with the other, threading her soft curls in between his slim fingers. Easy enough. ‘Lord in heaven, did I do that?’ exclaimed Gerald remorsefully.
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