She stood there with white set face and nervously clenched fingers. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked, assuming a fearful accent. Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. ‘Softly, you say?’ she uttered, raging. ‘Nevertheless, you will marry me,’ he snarled. 4. And Mr. ‘That’s better,’ said Gerald, and let her go. “My dear Vee!” Her voice became very low.
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