’ Gerald was staring at her, an arrested expression on his face. Sheppard's ward, Sir. Her mouth was worthy of her face; with small, pearly-white teeth; lips glossy, rosy, and pouting; and the sweetest smile imaginable, playing constantly about them. But after all, what did it matter whether she had secrets or not? To him she was not a woman but a symbol; and one did not investigate the antecedents of symbols. Winifred screamed. Silly, isn’t it? Undisciplined.
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