Selling out of the Army to take up his inheritance had spelled boredom to Gerald Alderley. He had meant to be master of his fate that evening and it had escaped him altogether. Our men had him fast, held down in a chair. He had removed his silk hat, and now sat looking at Ann Veronica over an untouched cup of tea; he sat gloating upon her, trying to catch her eye. She was writhing to get her hands loose and found herself gasping with passionate violence, “It’s damnable!—damnable!” to the manifest disgust of the fatherly policeman on her right.
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