‘Sir?’ enquired the lad. Dieu du ciel! Gerald was kissing her! She struggled to be free, and the arms that held her loosened, the lips leaving hers. Yes, this was a little better. "My coat!" he repeated, his glance burning into hers. There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets. 6 Chiu Ping le, Chiu Yam Street.
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