His face was that of a quick, intelligent-looking boy, with fine hazel eyes, and a clear olive complexion. Capes would come to these teas; he evidently liked to come, and he would appear in the doorway of the preparation-room, a pleasing note of shyness in his manner, hovering for an invitation. ‘She means thanks to you, General,’ Gerald translated automatically, forgetful of his old commander’s fiery temper. It was enough that she witnessed it and could not go to him.
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