“It isn’t fair. It was a moment or two before Gerald realised that he could feel the fluttering of her pulse beneath the light touch he had on her wrist, and that her fingers were trembling in his. I was happy to oblige them, I had grown sick of the heat of the south and all the miserable sun. “There ought to be some means of getting at him,” he said. "My horses, Charcam," he said, as a servant appeared.
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