’ Gerald knew the caress in his voice was a trifle ironic. But something instinctive prevented that, and with the finest resolve not to be “silly” and prudish she found that whenever he became at all bold in this matter she became severely scientific and impersonal, almost entomological indeed, in her method; she killed every remark as he made it and pinned it out for examination. She obeyed, extending her arm. He was a philosopher. Then he threw the letter at me. Shy, grateful in her loneliness for this unexpected attention, she had listened. “Thank you both for treating me for all the world like I was your child. The boy’s besotted. She saw me, and, Lady Ferringhall, I shall never forget her look as long as I live. I was compelled to run away. He then spoke with a certain fatherly kindliness of the past.
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