She had begun to care about her appearance again, looking into the glass he gave her, a thing nearly priceless that was bordered in intricate golden filigree and rubies. She could see that he was curious, so she sat upon him and they rocked back and forth. So that as she saw him she remarked to herself very faintly but definitely, “Oh, golly!” and set up a campaign of avoidance that Mr. ‘You ain’t got nothing on me. Find out what I have done or failed to do. “I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. But machinery will never approach the hand. It was not as bad a wound as she had at first thought, and the blood was only oozing now. The dinner was stranger than she had ever anticipated. She glanced at him. She would be surrendering to all her impulses—particularly the good impulses—many of which society had condemned long since because they entailed too much trouble. “That sounds interesting. ‘Lord,’ Gerald uttered, his inexplicable annoyance evaporating.
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