The girl nodded sagely. Their flitting hands were always touching. Faintly bothered by what it might mean, Gerald rose from his seat and crossed to the tray to pour himself a glass of wine. E. "Yes, yes," replied Edgeworth Bess. Yes, very well. “I wonder,” he said, “how you would like to be made love to—boldly or timorously or sentimentally. I'll keep it for your sake. Because here was the haven for which she had been blindly groping: the positive abolition of all her father's rights in her—the right to drag her back. Thwart me, and I become your mortal enemy. The evening was warm and inviting, one meant to be spent outdoors.
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