His smile faded. He would get very cross one evening and no one would dare to remind him of it. Lucy sat paralyzed, as still as Tiger Lily on the death raft. . Gerald noted the lady’s eyes brighten as she caught sight of him making his way through the throng towards her. He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. Almost instantly she had recognized the fallacy of such a statement.
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