7. ‘You cannot read my mind at all, monsieur. That would be an unkind twist of fate. A girl—at my age—is grown-up. ’ Gerald remained infuriatingly calm. “It’s all dirt that washes off, dear, but it’s dirt. “A thick-set, coarse-looking young man, Anna!” she exclaimed in a hoarse excited whisper. See? Down we should rush in a foam—in a cloud of snow—to flight and a dream.
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