It was a moment or two before Gerald, opening his eyes on the girl’s astounded expression, recollected himself sufficiently to pull out of the extraordinary impact she’d had on him. Turning, she flew for the nearest door. What was the fellow about? Was he being imposed upon? He watched as the man Valade turned back, spreading his hands in the French way. There was, in fact, only one clear thought in his fevered brain: he had reached the hotel without falling down. "Not materially, Mr. “Earning a salary!” “You’re like a Princess in Exile!” he repeated, overruling her. “Yes?” “You remember once, how we talked—at a gate on the Downs? We talked about how a girl might get an independent living. " "Didn't the natives have a name for you?" She blushed. She turned her eyes to him again, and saw her late friend and pleasant and trusted companion, who had seen fit suddenly to change into a lover, babbling interesting inacceptable things.
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