He might go on as the devoted lover until he tired. Such names shone brightly in the darkness, with black spaces of unilluminated emptiness about them, as stars shine in the night; but now—now it was different; now it was dawn—the real dawn. Gerald did not know who she was, but he knew who she was not. They were standing face to face now upon the hearthrug. He blushed, too, spiritually, as it were. He was halfway across the ballroom, where the dancing had ceased for the musicians to take a well-earned rest, when Roding pounced on him.
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