She followed him about persistently, and succeeded, after a brisk, unchivalrous struggle (in which he pinched and asked her to “cheese it”), in kissing him among the raspberries behind the greenhouse. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. My name is Armytage—Lord Ernest Armytage. ” “Never,” he exclaimed vehemently. “Good,” he said, as he watched the colour come back to her cheeks. ’ ‘But I am not stopping you from carrying on your business. ” “We’ve come past it, miss,” the man answered, with a note of finality in his gruff voice. “To Hell if we don’t change our ways. You shall have the spending of every penny of my money. The remainder of dinner was surreal and stilted. If I’m late again I’ll have to serve another detention!” She excused herself, hoping it was not too obvious she was running away.
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