At Anna’s words she seemed suddenly to stiffen. Dieu du ciel! Gerald was kissing her! She struggled to be free, and the arms that held her loosened, the lips leaving hers. “How dare you!” she panted, with her world screaming and grimacing insult at her. She could almost smell her mother’s attar of white roses and lemon verbena with the memory of the story. “But I am sorry,” she exclaimed. How many ends had he? Well, she must cease to trouble herself for this imbecile, whom it would give her very much pleasure to shoot.
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