It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands. Or, if you must take off my clothes, don't dash cold water on my head. The weed was all right. She could see over a waist high stone wall into the miniature courtyard, complete with benches only a small child could sit upon, one which had been broken in half, its two pieces left unjoined on the sandy ground. ‘Home?’ ‘To your family. She could accord her father with one grace: he was not in any manner a hypocrite. I see now that you make a game with me indeed.
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