All this muddle to placate his conscience! "Here—quick!" McClintock thrust a cigar into Spurlock's hand. If I could but——” To escape from her thoughts she began to undress, humming a light tune to herself, though her eyes were hot with unshed tears, and the sobs kept rising in her throat. “Do you believe me now?” She asked. For was not Gerald a gentleman? An Englishman, whose services any female—excluding her own self so idiote— would be very happy to have.
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