” “Lady Ferringhall! Anna!” he exclaimed. She recoiled. “I have come for an explanation,” she said. . Sometimes her straying mind would become astonishingly active—embroidering bright and decorative things that she could say to Capes; sometimes it passed into a state of passive acquiescence, into a radiant, formless, golden joy. But how to avail himself of it was the question, for in his present garb he was sure to be recognised. She moved forward almost indiscernibly, a millimeter. The night was clear and moonlit, dazzling with even light blue shadows that shone into manicured lawns and pristine gardens. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. I know very well Gerald has been fishing for information about that girl, and I am determined to find out what he knows.
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