Gerald exchanged a puzzled glance with his friend. There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets. That is very bad, certainly, and for this he was extremely sorry. He regretted now that in his idle hours he hadn't hunted up one against the rainy day. . ‘Oh my God,’ uttered Gerald in some dismay. Her thoughts took words for themselves. He took her hand and looked into her eyes and spoke, divided against himself, in a voice that was forced and insincere.
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