” He writhed. ‘Let go!’ ‘Do you take me for a fool?’ Gerald demanded. Manning loved her presented itself to her bloodlessly, stilled from any imaginative quiver or thrill of passion or disgust. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. Recognising the handwriting, he glanced swiftly at the signature, and uttering an explosive curse, cast the paper from him. His example was followed by Darrell.
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