Where was the harm in letting her go? She could not get far. “I’ve been thinking—all the afternoon. I told her I was sick today and she told me to get over myself. Nothing shall induce me to act contrary to the dictates of my conscience. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. He filled her glass with champagne. ‘What do we do now?’ Gerald took a pace towards the girl.
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