“I am afraid that you are making a mistake,” she said. All our fraternity are afraid of him; but I laugh at his threats. Nor, indeed, did she want to refuse. ’ She focused on Gerald’s face. A woman hard to read, who seemed to delight in keeping locked up behind that fascinating rigidity of feature the intense sensibility which had been revealed to him, her master, only in occasional and rare moments of enthusiasm. The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end. It was he who saw them first coming down the room—Annabel in a wonderful white satin gown in front, and Sir John stiff, unbending, disapproving, bringing up the rear.
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