It never seems to enter their heads to try and amuse their menkind. John turned toward the short staircase as she alit upon the first creaky step. She walked for a mile or more recklessly, close veiled, with swift level footsteps, though her brain was in a whirl and a horrible faintness all the time hovered about her. ‘Would it so? What sort of a girl is she, then?’ ‘She’s a consummate devil,’ Gerald declared roundly. “None, I thank you,” he answered.
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