He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face. “I was never at any such dinner, and I am quite sure that I do not know you. ” She could practically hear the self-deprecating thoughts racing across his mind, the failed hours of rehearsed lines. Ruth hugged the envelope and McClintock, with the end of a burnt match, drew a cabalistic sign. She held out her hand for it, but Gerald smiled. At least here she was safe.
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