’ ‘Don’t be a little fool,’ Gerald snapped irritably. ’ She bit her lip, but her eyes betrayed her. She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. She meditated long and carefully upon her letter to her father before she wrote it, and gravely and deliberately again before she despatched it. Gosse backed, not even attempting to parry so unorthodox a use of the foil. What was he doing? What was he thinking? It was less than a day now, less than twenty hours.
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