” “Lady Ferringhall—alone?” Ennison exclaimed. He took her hand in his, raising it closer, and gently touched the maltreated skin. Mounting the door he had last opened, he placed his hands on the wall above, and quickly drew himself up. I am not sure, but I believe that he has just thought of something. The thin stream of blood on which her eyes were fastened with a nameless horror reached almost to her feet. He could not understand how men could live ignoring this one predominant interest, this wonderful research into personality and the possibilities of pleasing, these complex, fascinating expeditions that began in interest and mounted to the supremest, most passionate intimacy. ‘Very well, never mind. ’ Gerald gazed at her without expression. He mumbled an apology and then stopped short.
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