Why can’t you let it be?’ Gerald grinned at him. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. She had been in the drawing-room for a few minutes before the gong had sounded, and had chattered gaily to every one. Stanley, to which the two ladies subordinated themselves intelligently. Jacques, Jacques!’ His face was white, but his eyes were open, if a trifle glazed. Brendon looked across the room at her thoughtfully.
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