‘It weren’t my wish, miss, I can tell you that. ’ ‘A pretty tale. ’ ‘Leonardo again,’ Gerald muttered and, to her disappointment, dropped her hand. A child—as innocent as a child! Nothing about life; bemused by the fairy stories you writers call novels! I don't know what you have done; I don't care. Her eyes were perhaps a little brighter than usual, the firelight played about her hair, there seemed to him to be a sudden softening of the straight firm mouth.
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