She guarded her mother, or at least she had liked to think so. “Come this way,” he said. It was a copy of the pencil sketch taken of him nine years ago by Winifred, and awakened a thousand tender recollections. . "I'm your dupe no longer. “There are a good many Whites in London. . I’ve accustomed myself to think of you— as if you were like every other girl who works at the schools—as something quite outside these possibilities. Gerald’s thoughts raced as he reached out supporting hands and murmured meaningless phrases to soothe. Relief flooded her. She kept her face downcast.
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