She was sorry for his liking her too much for his own good, but her need was too desperate to cavil at turning it to useful account. But machinery will never approach the hand. He had promised her some books, for she had voiced her hunger for stories. "Tell Mr. ‘But―but how can he know?’ His soldier’s instinct overtook Gerald and he dropped all his insouciance in a bang, becoming brisk. I do not know if I will have to escape quickly once more. She was perhaps three-and-twenty, and very pink and healthy-looking, showing a great deal of white and rounded neck above her business-like but altogether feminine blouse, and a good deal of plump, gesticulating forearm out of her short sleeve. Some Chinaman might take it into his head to shout: "Death to the foreign devils!" And out of that wall yonder would boil battle and murder and sudden death. She had neither the semi-boisterousness of the average American girl nor the chilling insolence of the English.
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