“Don’t!” she said, weakly, as he had bent down and put one arm about her and seized her hands with his disengaged hand and kissed her—kissed her almost upon her lips. ‘Comment? What do you say?’ Gerald looked down into her face, and found himself touched by the uncertainty he saw there. The day was warm even under an overcast sky and Hilary, uncomfortable, shifted his weight. I swear it. Jim is up to the neck in Mahatmas and Theosophy and Higher Thought and rot—writes letters worse than Alice.
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