‘Nothing of the sort,’ argued Gerald. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. She perceived she had never really thought of any one but herself in all her acts and plans. Anybody in pain had only to call to him. She glanced at him.
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