She was gone. She became as The Tigress, a free thing. “You remember our first meeting?” “Yes,” he answered hoarsely. ‘Maybe not,’ Gerald conceded, ‘but I’m damned if I herald my approach with a lot of unnecessary blundering about in the dark. Her back had stiffened, and her hazel eyes looked steadfastly ahead. And she would have rushed to him, if she had not been forcibly withheld by her son.
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