I cannot be intimate—’ stressing the word with a deep look ‘— with one I feel to be a stranger. Gerald raised a questioning eyebrow. At Christmas he gave her a set of a small edition of Meredith’s novels, very prettily bound in flexible leather, being guided in the choice of an author, as he intimated, rather by her preferences than his own. “I can’t imagine what has come over you,” said her aunt. It was that somebody had cheated you. ’ ‘Where are we going?’ ‘Back to Blaye, my girl.
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