“It’s—private. " "And why should you care whether she forgave you or not?" Spurlock jumped to his feet, the look of the damned upon his face. He was just getting cross about your being late for dinner—you know his way—when it came. For if Gerald had indeed gone to see this Prudence, it was better to wait for his report. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. So he found her when he came round the corner of the spinney. His figure was uncommonly slim even for his age, which could not be more than thirteen; and the looseness of his garb made him appear thinner than he was in reality. Her father read a draft prospectus warily, and her aunt dropped fragments of her projects for managing while the cook had a holiday. Home!— which I never hoped to see again. I struck him across the face, twisted the steering wheel of the motor, sprang out myself, and left him for dead on the road with the motor on top of him. His face clouded with anger.
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