’ Such simple faith touched Gerald. We have only those phantoms called memories, which are the husks of dreams. But De Maupassant—sheer off! Stick to Dickens and Thackeray and Hugo. ’ ‘Oh, that,’ Gerald said cautiously. A cold shiver came over her. Each became frightfully aware of the other as a plastic energetic body, of the strong muscles of neck against cheek, of hands gripping shoulder-blade and waist. The fellow is little better than a lunatic. . I had no curiosity of that kind. “You let him touch you!” John whispered back.
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