He returned, blue towel in hand. “Dreadful women, my dear!” said Miss Stanley. But his grief was of short duration. Luckily, Sir James was so much engrossed by his own task, that both the remark and gesture escaped him. ‘But―but how can he know?’ His soldier’s instinct overtook Gerald and he dropped all his insouciance in a bang, becoming brisk. I have an engagement with a theatrical agent—I believe for the ‘Unusual’.
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