And his scarlet coat had nothing to do with it, as Hilary was fond of recounting, for he had been in civilian clothes when they met, as he was tonight. After all, he had the means of setting this tormenting doubt at rest. “Do YOU go across the Park?” “Not usually. But—but how?’ ‘Can you write?’ Gerald asked, digging into one of his capacious pockets and bringing out a leather ring purse. Mrs. Man or woman. The cart, meantime, had approached the fatal tree.
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