If she had any idea at all, it was something she dimly recalled from her books: something celestially beautiful, with a happy ending. You can’t do that sort of thing unless you do it over religion, and there’s no religion in me—of that sort—worth a rap. Which were perfectly true, as Gerald was aware. . Hoddy, what made you do it? Whatever made you do it?" "God knows! Something said to me: Take it! Take it! And … I took it. Besides, she had admitted her identity. They found a cosy little table in the tea-rooms, and everything was delicious. "I think you're all bewitched," she cried. He propped himself up on one arm, kissing her passionately.
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