‘You would know more of me?’ ‘I would know everything about you,’ Gerald told her, his tone at once provocative and inviting. She dropped the locket into its sweet hiding place. She hung about his chair, followed him to the door, touched his sleeve timidly, all the while striving to pronounce the words which refused to rise to her tongue. Some indeed carried themselves, dressed themselves even, rather as foreign visitors from the land of “Looking Backward” and “News from Nowhere” than as the indigenous Londoners they were. The new-comer looked at Charcam.
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