192 Her skirt had ridden almost to her hips. ‘You are, I think, a gentleman, no?’ Gerald bowed. The cell in which she was confined was about six feet long and four wide; the walls were scored all over with fantastic designs, snatches of poetry, short sentences and names,—the work of its former occupants, and of its present inmate. One or two landladies refused her with an air of conscious virtue that she found hard to explain. “You’re splendid!” said Teddy, with his hair wild in the wind.
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