CHAPTER XXIII. ‘If you love me, you will say it, or else I will blow off your head. It is the worst of talk under such social circumstances that it is always getting cut off so soon as it is beginning; and I went home that afternoon feeling I had said nothing—literally nothing—of the things I had meant to say to you and that were coursing through my head. ‘How the deuce did she get out without me seeing her?’ ‘Took advantage of the distraction, cunning little devil,’ Gerald snapped, racing down the corridor.
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