Then to the Golden Ball, in the same street. ‘Lord,’ Gerald uttered, his inexplicable annoyance evaporating. ‘Oh, dearie me, you make me feel a traitor. “If you say so, Lucy. —You've your answer, Blueskin," he added, pushing that individual, who seemed unwilling to depart, towards the door; "it's useless to urge the matter further. "She wouldn't let me go. I will pray for you. Anna sprang to her feet and made for the dressing-room door.
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