She stumbled through a thorny copse, her slippers sliding on patches of sand that gave way to rock. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. Opals. ’ Gerald’s jaw tightened. Eggs were procured for her, and she sat out the subsequent emotions and eloquence with the dignity becoming an injured lady of good family. Not at all.
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