She appeared not to have realised the implications of her outburst, but clung a little to Gerald’s hands which had taken hers in a comforting clasp. In the middle there was a gate. “Julian, please, let’s go to your place. And there was that dress of hers! She must be warned that she had been imposed upon. Tell me a story—with apple-blossoms in it—about people who are happy. Something tells me I am rushing on greater danger. It did not occur to her that save for some accidents of education and character they had souls like her own.
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