‘He don’t mean you no harm. Pray, walk in. As she did so, the ruffles to the jacket of her riding habit fell away, exposing livid blue bruises about her wrist, ugly in the light of day from the window at their back. 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. "It would be a thousand pities, wouldn't it, to put so promising a lad out of the way?" "Devil!" exclaimed the knight fiercely, "Give me the paper. Ramage!” she began, and his mouth sealed hers and his breath was mixed with her breath. ’ ‘When you begin to tell the truth,’ Gerald told her severely, ‘I shall be happy to believe you.
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