The picture in her mind altered and she saw again the way Gerald had looked with consternation upon the bruises he had inflicted on her wrist. Faugh!” She took up the last morsel of roll, and held it delicately between her long slim fingers. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work. “My word holds,” she said. She heard this standard expression of a strong soul wrung with a critical coldness that astonished herself. What he intended to do with it is of little consequence now. Capes smiled cheerfully with his eyes meeting hers. He came to the door and as he opened it a crack, she pushed herself inside urgently.
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