And by degrees, perhaps, that maiden distrust of yours that makes you shrink from my kisses, will vanish. Peste, where was her handkerchief? She remembered then that it had been lost in the struggle with Gerald. “I won’t go home,” she said; “I won’t!” and she evaded the clutch of the fatherly policeman and tried to thrust herself past him in the direction of that big portal. The salt air was fresher than the stale air in the manor.
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