Cheveney walked away with a shrug of the shoulders. Probably she mistook you; probably she thought you cared. ” She looked at him quizzically and shrugged. She rehearsed the story of her forlorn long lost mother in her head, what she would say to the theorymongers. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his. ’ ‘I don’t know,’ confessed Gerald.
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