‘What started you off, you madman,’ Roding told him frankly, as he set about tying his handkerchief around the wound, ‘was being born at all. Just as he had told Gerald would be the case, there was nothing of interest to hear, especially as he had met the girl in London only last night. He might miss at this distance. Her complexion had resisted the snow-glare wonderfully; her skin had only deepened its natural warmth a little under the Alpine sun.
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