Shall we say at half-past seven?” She rose from her chair. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. She turned quickly. I knew it. Laughed at me, then. Gerald took Madame’s hand and kissed the fingers with a little more warmth than punctilio demanded.
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