One never knew when it would be necessary to resume her disguise. "Poor creature!" ejaculated Wood. ’ Triumph leapt in Gerald’s chest. Capes—the ‘Capes crave,’ they would call it in America. “I’m not in the mood right this instant. She pushed at the closer of the two soldiers bearing the precious burden. “You were born for great things,” he said huskily. Wood, in a whisper, as he filled a rummer to the brim, not to forget the health of the Chevalier de Saint George—a proposition to which the lady immediately responded by drinking the toast aloud. That’s— that’s my private life.
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