“Tell her,” said Mr. "Jack!" she cried, raising her head. “I think you are getting to understand me better. 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. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. She assumed with a kind of mesmeric force all the propositions that Ann Veronica wanted her to define.
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