As she drew off her skirt she felt something in the pocket, and remembered the letter which the commissionaire at the Carlton had given her. As she danced there was in her ears the faded echo of wooden tom-toms. I should have gone mad without it. Let us be gone. You didn’t see me fall into a swoon when you cursed just now, did you?’ ‘I’m beginning to doubt if anything less than a sledgehammer would send you into a swoon,’ Gerald retorted. .
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