Gerald studied the darkness beyond the aperture. Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. ‘You are, I think, a gentleman, no?’ Gerald bowed. “Hainault, Celeste’s friend. She was dressed as English girls do dress for town, without either coquetry or harshness: her collarless blouse confessed a pretty neck, her eyes were bright and steady, and her dark hair waved loosely and graciously over her ears.
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