Her cheeks burned for a moment or two when she reached the street, although she held her head upright and walked blithely, even humming to herself fragments of an old French song. Waving a white flag, naturally. “Couldn’t we three go out and have some coffee somewhere? The thought of that drawing-room paralyses me. Drummond was telling me about the way old Ferringhall rounded upon them all at the club. He had done this a dozen times on the way from his office. That would be fun, eh?" "I wonder if you know how kind you are? You are like somebody out of a book. ’ Authority had won again, Gerald thought with satisfaction.
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