We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses. She even thought that perhaps she might come to love him, in spite of that faint indefinable flavor of absurdity that pervaded his courtly bearing. ‘Mary was indeed naïve, but there I should say the similarity ends. He unlocked himself from her embrace. Your purposes are defeated. It was a perfect windless spring day, a Sunday. They're apt to be surly to strangers, but it soon wears off. I am a man—of a sort of experience. A. " He laughed and followed her into the hotel. ‘Would you like me to enquire for your mystery lady, Gerald? I know the Comte and Comtesse de St Erme quite well. “And some of them quite pretty and well dressed.
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