She could see that she was now the exclusive object of the boy’s attention. Her slender throat was encircled by a black riband, with a small locket attached to it; and upon the top of her head rested a diminutive lace cap. His eyes looked a little bloodshot to her; his face had lost something of its ruddy freshness. The next moment, a heavy plunge told that the fugitive had been consigned to the waves. She fell into another slumber, one which was more like a blackout. They sat in the front row. Gerald began to ease forward, deciding just how he would accost her. “John, don’t!” she cried. She pointed hither and yon, smiled and shook her head.
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