She answered him almost coldly. ‘Do you not understand that I can trust no one—no one?’ ‘That is a pity,’ Gerald said, rising to face her. When she awoke, she felt sick, her mouth still salty with blood. You think everything is harmless and simple, and so forth. ‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands. She came to her one day and pulled on her apron. Foolish compliments were tossed about like confetti.
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