It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. To-night she had a curious feeling that she stood upon the threshold of some change. "Anything else?" "Your waistcoat. Here it is. She glanced at the Frenchman, and found him struggling with the portrait that was embedded around his scalp. A swift frown brought the still dark brows together for a moment.
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