The old-fashioned dress, with its series of ruffles and printed flowers, ballooned treacherously, revealing her well-turned leg in silk stockings, as it snapped against her body as a mould. ‘I am perfectly devoted to him, as well he knows. “Well,” he said, argumentatively, “it IS. ‘Indeed?’ Gerald said politely. She stole her glances sideways like the rest of the women. She let out a delighted laugh. ‘To go to these Charvill, it was not in my plot. Almost instantly she had recognized the fallacy of such a statement. But out of a belated regard for her father she wrote the surname of some one else. Things that you and the nuns would not think about for—’ She stopped, biting back the words “for a young girl”. I want you to be my wife. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. “Do you think he’s still around?” She paused thoughtfully. " CHAPTER XIV.
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