Gerald looked at it, then at her face. It reverberated in the silence. Gerald watched its approach with vague interest, which quickened when he saw that it was drawing up outside the very house out of which he had just stepped. It was only a matter of time. She remained for some seconds crouching at the fender, poker in hand. A post-chaise seen in the road first alarmed us. Your aunt liked the pheasant. He had sold half a dozen short tales to thirdrate magazines; but this letter had been issued from a distinguished editorial room, of international reputation.
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