She sat drawn together in her chair in the corner of the box, at a loss what to say or do—afraid, curious, perplexed. The sun lingered, finally dropping beyond the dark canopy of pine trees at the edge of the park. “I always get off here and lean over that rail for a bit. 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. The individual twist was always there, even in the cleverest forgeries. CHAPTER VI.
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