Hill, Meysey Hill. "Is it indeed you, or am I dreaming?" "You're not dreaming, mother," he answered. The man had favoured him with a brief nod, but the girl had gone so far as to offer a tiny smile, and a look under her lashes with which not even Gerald, for all his scant interest in female society, could fail to be familiar. ‘Monsieur Charvill thought perhaps that his daughter would find not a welcome. He was even a little jealous of Sebastian. “But—your people!” she gasped. After that, we'll go our several ways.
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