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She had dreaded the beginning of this hour. Dieu du ciel! Gerald was kissing her! She struggled to be free, and the arms that held her loosened, the lips leaving hers. ’ At that, a flush drenched her cheeks and she snatched her hand away. ‘Your mystery lady, I mean. ‘Must be still downstairs. You must wait till supper's over. She looked directly at his face, his perpetually graying hair, his hawkish nose, his long cheekbones. There is a small yewtree west of the church.
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