Her little white hand stole across the table. It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already anticipated. I think over all sorts of things. It was still raining heavily, and profoundly dark. Finally she decided that even for an hotel she must look round, and that meanwhile she would “book” her luggage at Waterloo. He succeeded so well that by the time he asked for her name once more, she fluttered her lashes as coquettishly as ever. ’ Gerald could not resist. “But frankly, I mean to fight this through if I possibly can.
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