’ ‘You traitor, Gerald,’ laughed Lucilla, her yellow curls bouncing under a huge straw bonnet all over flowers. It penetrated the skin; benumbed the flesh; paralysed the faculties. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. Hitherto, no visiters had been permitted to see him. Anna tore it open and passed it to Courtlaw.
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