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’ Amusement flickered in Gerald’s breast. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. She was not very clear about the position and duties of a chorus-girl, but it certainly had the air of being a last desperate resort. Tell me, Sir," she added, with forced calmness, and grasping Wood's arm; "what has Jack done? Tell me in a word, that I may know the worst. ‘Very well, then. “She has never 96 once contacted me. ” “Then he—and Paris—lied,” Ennison answered. There’s hardly a night she doesn’t sneak out of the house.
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