The touch of his lips neither thrilled nor alarmed her, because the eyes that looked into hers were clean. For was not Gerald a gentleman? An Englishman, whose services any female—excluding her own self so idiote— would be very happy to have. It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. Finger to his lips, Gerald pointed in the direction of the noise. I called myself Anna. We won’t drag you away until you’ve been through the place from top to bottom.
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