‘You are, I think, a gentleman, no?’ Gerald bowed. ’ ‘Like your father,’ Gerald put in deliberately. The lips were straight and pale, the chin aggressive, the nose indomitable. The fibre of his soul had to be tested, queerly, to make him worthy of you. Had she not seen them go forth with tracts in their pockets and grins in their beards? To set fire to his imagination, to sting his sense of chivalry into being, to awaken his manhood, she must present some irresistible project.
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