"Heaven be praised, I am not the son of a nobleman. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. “I wonder what he takes me for?” When presently she got down from the stile a certain note of internal conflict, a touch of doubt, had gone from her warm-tinted face. " "Why, what the devil's this?" vociferated Jonathan, looking up. She wasn’t sure of herself when she said it. ’ ‘I think he only wants to help you, miss,’ offered Jack. She looked more than her sixty odd years, in spite of a still lush head of black hair, streaked with a little grey, which was visible under her cap and of immediate interest to Gerald.
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