"He lives at Dollis Hill, a beautiful spot near Willesden, about four or five miles from town, where he has taken a farm. The features were indistinct, but was that not a halo of white about it? And the dark shadow below, was that a cloak, or the habit of a nun? Skirting the dancing, from which he had taken a breather—not from lack of energy, but to escape the inanities of the young ladies he had partnered—Gerald made his way to a side door in the saloon and opened it. You make a game with me, imbecile. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. ’ Gerald frowned. “Get out of the car. I don’t believe any one could have traced us here. ’ He sighed elaborately. A moistened velvet touch found her tongue. This person was speedily followed by half a dozen others, some of whom carried flambeaux. She had finally managed to start breaking him down.
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