She looked more than her sixty odd years, in spite of a still lush head of black hair, streaked with a little grey, which was visible under her cap and of immediate interest to Gerald. “Too late, my dear girl,” she exclaimed. Won’t you come and have some tea with me? There is a new place in Bond Street,” he hastened to say, “where everything is very well done, and they give us music, if that is any attraction to you. ’ ‘Hadn’t the wit, you mean. Gerald glanced down and saw her dash at a spread of blood on his own hand, only now realising that her dagger had found its mark. You are restless, aggressive, critical with all the crude unthinking criticism of youth.
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